


Such A Sweet Tease

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Series: You And The Winchesters: Tales of Smut, Antics and Pie [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Developing Attraction, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Lust, Polyamory...perhaps?, Protective Winchesters, Reader is slightly innocent, SLOW BUILD!!, Secretive eye-humping, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, So much for 'brotherly love', Unintentional Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and the Winchester brothers were a tightly-knit group, travelling from place to place to take on whatever supernatural threat came your way. The bond between you and them seemed to strengthen with every day and every conversation.</p><p>Though things begin to change; the boys appear more distant and uneasy, acting out of character around you. You just don't understand what could possibly have damaged your friendship with them. You don't understand why they've started looking at you oddly or muttering to one another when you leave the room.</p><p>After a few unusual incidents, you soon discover their reasons...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Another SPN fic! XD I can't resist...these guys have me hooked *wistful sigh* <3
> 
> I really hope this is okay, and you groovy folks enjoy reading! :D
> 
> P.S.Excuse the long intro :3 I just wanted to set the scene and give the fic some 'context' ^.^

Having been with the Winchester brothers for some time, you'd developed a close bond with them. Upon first encountering them and becoming embroiled in a case of theirs, you were both fascinated and intimidated by the brothers. Entering their world of hunting down creatures you thought to be subjects of fantasy and pop-culture; little more than the figments of imaginations, the perpetuated tales from centuries ago. Knowing that these monstrosities _**existed**_ chilled your blood- and likely would have made you a paranoid wreck had you not known people like Sam and Dean Winchester were there to eradicate as many threats as they could track down. Becoming deeply involved with them during an investigation of theirs in your neighbourhood, they found your attention to detail invaluable, and offered you a place by their side; as a fellow hunter. The two of them trained you intensively, urged you to study their father's hunting journal to familiarise yourself with the plethora of supernatural beings and tested your newly acquired knowledge.

You always passed with flying colours.

This life, though at times somewhat terrifying, was more fulfilling than the mundane chores of suburban living you yearned to escape from. You finally had something to focus on and, strangely enough, _**enjoy**_. It wasn't so much the hunting you particularly cared for, but the opportunity to travel, each place you ventured to promising a different adventure, and savour the wonderful company of the Winchesters.

Granted, initially you were extremely attracted to them both; Dean, with his cocky charm and handsome face, Sam, with his protective streak and gorgeous, dimpled smile. In a vain effort not to end up a love-struck puddle following in their wake, you pushed aside your less appropriate thoughts and managed to befriend them. After nearly a year and a half with them, they were as brothers to you, and you, the sister they never had.

You'd never felt so comfortable with anyone before; able to talk with them, joke around, confide in them and share hilariously embarrassing memories without fear of judgement. Feeling like a caged bird being liberated, you could finally be who you **_wanted_** to be, say what you wanted to say and they would _**understand**_ and actually _**appreciate**_ you for it. The brothers doted on the woman you truly, deep down, were. For that, you bore a love for them that was incomparable to anything you'd felt before.

 

In recent weeks, however, you'd noticed a slight change, a shift in the dynamics between yourself and the Winchester brothers. Though a subtle change it was, it was unmistakeably **there**. You tried to cast the concern aside, repeatedly telling yourself it was a brief faze of stress on their part, but still it lingered at the back of your mind. All because of small things they no longer did, or in some cases, had started to do.

Dean wasn't quite as conversational and roguish with you as he once was. At times, he seemed a little uneasy. You hoped you'd not done or said something to influence such a change in his behaviour. Losing the friendship you had with him would have been painful, especially considering the special moment you'd shared with him. It had happened one afternoon- following a few hours of research, he'd started to feel hungry, so predictably went to warm up a pie. Returning to the table with the pie, you'd chuckled affectionately at him and remarked upon the pie's pleasant aroma making your stomach rumble. It was at that point, he pressed a second fork into your hand.

“Dig in, princess, we can share this one,” he'd said.

“Dean, did you just offer to share **_pie_** ? Are you feeling okay? Have you got a fever?” You'd questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm feelin' generous today. C'mon, eat up, sweetheart, or I'll change my mind,” he shaken his fork at you impatiently. You'd giggled and gave Dean a sunlit smile.

“Aww, thank you, Dean,” you told him, sincerely, pushing the fork prongs into the flaky pastry and scooping out a nicely-sized bite. “This has to be some sort of momentous occasion- sharing pie with Dean Winchester. They should totally make today a national holiday for celebration.” You'd joked.

“Damn straight,” Dean had chuckled, reaching up with his other hand to ruffle your hair gently.

It really had been a special moment. The two of you had a genuinely enjoyable conversation, that possessed more depth than you might have once expected from speaking to Dean. It had, you believed, brought you both even closer.

 

Sam's attitude had also changed. He wasn't as affectionate with you. As so often was the case, if you were both relaxing on the couch- in the motel room you three had rented for the night- and watching a movie on the small television, you would nestle up to him for warmth and comfort. In a purely platonic manner, he would always wrap an arm around you and comb his fingers through your hair, his nails scratching pleasantly against your scalp. It wasn't rare for you to drift off, your head lolling against his shoulder.

The younger Winchester was the brother you could always rely on for a reassuring hug or gentle squeeze of the hand. All of these demonstrations of fondness had stopped, replaced by cursory pats on the shoulder or arm. You couldn't fathom the reason behind this. The only thing that was certain was your sadness over the loss of this affectionate contact, that warm feeling of security you felt whenever Sam would hug you. It was difficult enough that the bonds you'd formed with the brothers were starting to fracture- but what hurt even more was not knowing _**why**_ .

You noticed, while many things they no longer did, they had started to do others. They'd glance your way more often, unsmiling, almost serious. They'd even give you those odd looks if you were doing something you deemed innocuous and within the realms of 'socially acceptable'; as though you were from another planet entirely. Sometimes, if you were to go to the bathroom, you'd hear them speaking in low voices. Upon your return they'd quieten and continue researching, eating or searching for possible leads. That always made you feel a bit edgy.

What had changed between you and them?

 

You and the Winchesters were staying in a surprisingly pleasant motel room for a few nights. It was reasonably spacious, well-lit and very clean. While the décor was nothing to sing praises over, you didn't complain at all; especially with your experience of staying in some dilapidated rooms. Instead, you were sprawled out on your back, across the large couch, your head pillowed by a small, squishy cushion. You were reading a book, holding it above you, and absent-mindedly spreading your knees apart and knocking them together whilst you read. Sam and Dean were sat at the small dining table which was, from your position on the couch, almost in front of you. They were in the midst of researching the possible cause of a particular string of grisly murders in the local area.

“...we may be dealing with something a little different for this case. Supposedly, there's a particular bloodline of vampire- _the Nagaraja clan_ – otherwise known as the 'Flesh Eaters'. They're pretty much one of the more reviled clans, and their numbers are pretty sparse-” Sam was saying.

“Wouldn't want too many of those bastards around,” Dean remarked.

“Definitely not,” Sam said darkly. You wriggled up the length of the couch, sitting up, so your back was pressed against the arm of the couch and your knees propped up. The way you were sat might have been considered slightly revealing, given that you were wearing a short, summer dress; but you felt neither Sam nor Dean would be bothered. Not only were they too focused, but they didn't think about you _**like that**_ .

“So you think a Nagaraja turned those poor SOBs into human lasagne?”

“It's possible, but I think we....we should...we should, um, check it out- I mean, look into it...” Sam stammered, distractedly.

“Sammy?” Dean picked up on Sam's change in demeanour. There was a moment of silence, and you peered at them over your book. They were looking in your direction, their gaze fixed on something below your face or book.

“Guys? Watcha looking at?” You inquired. Both pairs of eyes flickered upward to glance at your face, as if caught committing some heinous crime, before they switched their attention back to their books and papers strewn across the table. “Guys, c'mon, what were you staring at?”

“You're, um, wearin' a dress,” Dean mumbled observantly.

“Uh...yeah. It's warm. Is it so strange for a woman to wear a dress, Dean?” You asked, teasingly, but the older Winchester cleared his throat.

“No, 'course not. Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly. You sighed, hoping for an amusing retort or a small, companionable exchange. Instead, all you got was silence and awkward sideways glances.

 

After an hour of reading, you grew tired, yawning loudly. You set your book down on the coffee table, and stretched on the sofa, arching your back up gracefully as a cat waking from slumber and giving a tiny groan at the relief of tension in your muscles. Sam peered across at you, furtively.

“I'm gonna get ready to hit the sack, you two. Am I in the bed or taking the couch tonight?” You inquired, getting up onto your feet.

“You take the bed, [Y/N],” Dean said gruffly.

“Who am I sharing with?” You asked, in a teasing trill, clasping your hands together.

“You usually share with Sam. No need to break the tradition, right?” Dean responded, oddly evasive. Sam didn't look up from his book.

“Oh-kay. Your enthusiasm's really bawling me over, guys. I'm feeling **_so_** loved,” you tried to make the comment throwaway and humorous, but there was a brittle edge to your words. With another explosive sigh, you stalked off in the direction of the bathroom, tugging at the hem of your dress.

After getting yourself sorted for bed, you came out of the bathroom, and pulled out your pyjama t-shirt from the bedside table- which doubled up as a small set of drawers. Without a second thought, you dragged your dress up and over your head, casting it aside onto the bed. You then snatched up your pyjama t-shirt, and slipped it on. The t-shirt fell to mid-thigh level on your bare legs, keeping you cool and comfortable. Turning around to crawl onto the bed, you noticed Dean watching you. Thinking he was looking at your t-shirt, you snorted.

“I know, I know. I have a duckling motif on my PJs. I can feel your judgement,” you pointed out.

“Oh...um...oh, nah, the ducklings are kinda sweet, [Y/N],” Dean offered a wan smile. “Just...don't you wanna wear...more? Aren't you gonna get cold?”

“When have I ever worn more than this?” You asked, going on all fours, and reaching across the bed to grab the TV remote from the other bedside table. “Anyways-” you began, settling back in your place, “-since when did **_the Dean Winchester_** ever tell a woman to wear **more** clothes?” You stuck your tongue out at him. Dean's expression could only be described as 'fleetingly pinched', before chuckling drily.

 

“Mind if I watch some TV, guys? It won't disturb you, will it?” You asked.

“Go ahead, [Y/N]. Some background noise wouldn't go unappreciated,” Sam responded.

“Sweet!” You celebrated, switching on the television and flipping through the channels.

Careful to keep the volume low, you settled for The Avengers, committing yourself to Tony Stark's quips, Captain America's spectacular butt and Loki's sass. Rolling onto your side, propping your head up on your hand, and draping your other arm over your waist, you were in a more comfortable position to view the TV- which had been placed at an angle, diagonally from your spot on the bed.

About three quarters of an hour into the movie, you felt your eyelids droop and your head nearly slip forward off of your hand. Deciding it was time to turn in, you switched the television off and set the remote aside. You pulled your legs up to your chest so you could tug the bedclothes up and over your body.

“Goodnight, Sam. Good night, Dean,” you bid them, lying down and tugging the quilt up to your chest.

“G'night, princess,” Dean said, with more warmth than he'd been showing as of late.

“Night, [Y/N],” Sam said sweetly. You yawned, closing your eyes. Even with the lights on, you managed to drift off into peaceful sleep almost immediately.

 

Woken up by the sounds of movement and a bit of jostling, you opened your eyes blearily. It was dark in the motel room, save for the lamp on Sam's side of the double bed. You stirred, and glanced around lethargically. Dean was stretched out on the sofa, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting across his stomach. Judging by his slow, steady breaths, you guessed he'd already fallen asleep. Sam, however, was only just settling down next to you.

“Sam?” You whispered sleepily, twisting round to look at him.

“Hey, [Y/N], sorry if I woke you up,” he said softly, rubbing your shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“S'okay,” you croaked tiredly, turning back and laying your head against your pillow. “Night, Sam. Don't let the bed bugs bite.” You added in a drowsy slur. The younger Winchester chuckled very quietly.

“Goodnight, [Y/N],” he said. Based on the change in his voice, you could tell he was smiling at you. For a few minutes, you both lay in bed, completely silent. Then you felt the mattress sag and the sheets rustle as Sam shuffled closer to you. He pressed his body to your back and wrapped an arm around you.

Considering his recent behaviour, the gesture came as a surprise to you. Even before the change in his manner toward you, him holding you in bed was a rare thing. The last time he had held you, it'd been a few months ago, after a particularly physically and emotionally exhausting hunt. The both of you craved some form of consolation, a feeling of security. The 'spooning' was not remotely sexual, but a means to an end for finding solace.

You felt protected having him behind you, his body cocooning you in warmth. With his face so close to your shoulder, you could hear the faint sound of him inhaling and exhaling. You decided to rest your own arm atop his, the soft skin of your palm and underside of your fingers on the back of his hand. It all seemed right. There was nothing more to the gesture, nothing lascivious. It was simply two people making one another feel secure.

 

Well, that was your belief, until you were pulled from your sleepy haze by something pushing against the back of your thigh.

 _ **What's that**_ ? You wondered. **_Not what I think it is...it can't be_** , you frowned in puzzlement.

Whatever was pressing into your thigh felt pretty damn solid. You quickly clicked. **That** certainly hadn't happened before.

“Um...Sam?” You spoke in a hushed tone.

“Hmm?”

“Sam...umm...there's something...kinda...digging into me,” you whispered awkwardly.

“Huh?”

“I can feel something hard against my thigh, Sam,” you said more assertively. Sam remained silent for a brief moment.

“I'm so sorry, [Y/N],” he sounded genuinely ashamed.

“It's fine, Sam,” you tried to assure him. He wriggled away from you, rolling onto his side so you were now back-to-back. The loss of contact sent a chill over your skin.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he repeated.

“It's not like you could help it,” you scoffed.

“I got too relaxed...umm.... **that** hasn't ever happened before,” Sam remarked, almost ruefully, not daring to look back at you.

“Nope, not with me, at least,” you snorted quietly. Sam gave a tiny moan of embarrassment.

“I really am sorry, [Y/N],” he insisted.

“Shush, Sam, it's okay. Go to sleep. We'll be able to laugh about this one day,” you touched his bare back gently, before settling down.

"I doubt that," Sam replied sullenly. You were surprised that he'd taken such umbrage at a natural bodily reaction. _**Was it because it was you**_? Was he worrying that you'd get the 'wrong idea'? Did he think you'd be reproachful? Was he concerned you'd be under the impression he was attracted to you? It seemed bizarre that he didn't just laugh it off or make a wry joke about it.

_**What was going on?** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's curious, I know the whole mention of 'Nagaraja' vampires is a bit weird (and probably not an SPN thing), so credit there goes to a favourite game of mine- Vampire the Masquerade:Bloodlines :D whoop whoop!
> 
> I haven't really gotten very far into the show, so I don't know that much about the various creatures/spirit, and I figured it would be best to just pick out a random beastie ^.^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Chapter two is here, lovely people! ^.^ 
> 
> Just in case anyone's wondering, I don't plan on rushing straight into the smut, as I feel that can detract from the sexiness of a fic (I hope that doesn't sound pretentious?)- it's going to be a slow (but not THAT slow) build. Like, just-another-chapter-away kind of slow. I'm not going to keep you waiting for too long, don't worry :p 
> 
> So here it is. Please enjoy! <3

The next morning, you woke up before both Dean and Sam. Deciding to seize the opportunity, sliding quietly out of bed, you snatched up clean underwear, clothes and your towel, before padding across the carpeted floor towards the bathroom. Without either of the guys knocking on the door and hurrying you along, you could take your time in the shower washing your hair.

The hot water felt wonderfully invigorating against your skin. After washing away the remaining shampoo lather, you shut your eyes and let the spray of the shower rain gently over your face. For some curious reason, you started picturing Dean sidling into the cubicle, winding his arms around your waist as he pressed kisses along your shoulder...

 ** _Whoa, where'd that come from_** _**?**_ You immediately thought, shaking yourself mentally.

Another somewhat inappropriate thought leapt in your mind eye's; Sam pushing you up against the wall of the cubicle, dragging his tongue along your throat...

 ** _Maybe I should switch the cold water on? Jeez Louise, what the hell's the matter with me?_**   You tugged the lever down, closing the water valve, and stepped out of the shower. Whilst wrapping your towel around yourself, tucking it carefully just above your chest, you wondered why you were suddenly visualising yourself with your closest friends in such intimate scenarios.

 ** _Eh, probably all the weird vibes I'm getting off them. It's nothing_** , you shrugged it off, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Walking toward the mirror, you noticed your clean, soaking wet hair was slicked back. Raking your fingers through it, you managed to give it some sort of semblance of your usual style, but you knew you were in desperate need of a hairbrush. Glancing at the sink basin counters, you realised you'd forgotten to grab your brush from your bag. You'd have to dash out of the bathroom to retrieve it.

You were hoping Sam and Dean were still asleep.

 

As it turned out, both brothers were wide awake (or at least getting there, eagerly nursing cups of coffee) and dressed in their pyjama sweatpants. While Dean sat at the table; rubbing his eyes and taking sips of his drink- Sam was leaning against a counter in the kitchenette; yawning, but rather more perky and wide-eyed. You crept through the room, with an apologetic look.

“Sorry, guys. Forgot my brush!” You giggled. Sam eyes were a lot wider when he saw you creeping past in your short towel, and Dean seemed to wake up quickly.

“I swear I haven't used up all the hot water. So if it runs out on one of you, it's your fault,” you jested, pattering over to your bag.

“So, um, ah...you must have woken up early?” Sam coughed.

“Not really. You guys just wake up late,” you snorted, bending over to scour through your bag.

“Huh...y'know, I'm gonna go use the shower,” Sam announced, his voice wavering oddly.

“Wait, Sammy, hey-” Dean bristled, but his younger brother had evidently pelted off in the direction of the bathroom.

“I dunno what's up with him,” you said lightly, still bent over and rooting around in your bag. “God damn it, where's my brush?!” You snapped, shaking your travel bag vigorously, in the hopes your hairbrush would soon reveal itself to you.

“Um, you okay there, [Y/N]?” Dean inquired awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah, just annoyed and- **_aha_** ! There you are, you little bastard!” You declared, tugging the brush out. “Got it!” Proudly holding up the object, you turned around to see Dean leaning forward in a bizarre hunched-over position on his seat. He was making a physical effort not to look at you, instead staring intently at his coffee.

“Awesome,” he commented stiffly.

“Yep,” you answered victoriously, before looking over to the closed bathroom door and remembering your fresh clothing was still inside. “Huh. Shit. My stuff is still in there. Sam! **_Hey Sam_**!” You scampered forward, knocking on the door and calling.

“What?!” He called back.

“Sam, my clothes are still in there! Plus, where am I meant to get dressed?!” You demanded.

“I'll pass you your stuff, just hang on a sec!” Sam hollerred from the other side of the door. Waiting directly outside the bathroom for a few moments, you drummed your fingers against the door frame as your other hand clutched the hairbrush

 

The door was finally cracked open; Sam's face appearing from behind it, as his arm snaked out to pass you your bundle of clothing. You took it, thanking him.

“But seriously, Sam, where I am supposed to get dressed?” You asked again.

“Out there,” he answered vaguely, gesturing to main area of the motel room. You cast him a dark look.

“Dean's out here,” you reminded him, cocking an eyebrow up.

“Yeah?”

“I can't get dressed in front of him, Sam. That'd be weird for the both of us,” you complained.

“You're walking around in a towel, [Y/N],” Sam pointed out in a brittle voice, “I think you've gone beyond the line of 'decency'.”

“Oh, Sam, don't be like that, I've walked around in front of you guys in a towel before. I mean, we're friends, we're comfortable around each other so we can do that sort of thing. Besides, I've seen you two walk around in towels- why is it any different when it's **me** ?” You pouted at the younger brother, tucking your bundle of clothes under your arm. Sam's greenish-hazel eyes flickered to the side, as though looking to his older brother for assistance. The moment you glanced back at Dean, he dropped his eyes back to his coffee cup; focusing on it with burning intensity.

“Because you're a-” Sam cut himself off.

“Because I'm a **_what_** ? A woman?” You finished for him, catching shame pass across his face. “Why does that make it a problem? C'mon, this hasn't ever been an issue before. I'm practically a sister to you both!” You sighed exasperatedly.

“[Y/N], it's just...I didn't mean anything by it, we think you're-you're, um-” Sam sputtered a little, but you held up a hand to spare him any further unease.

“Never mind, Sam, it's okay. You take the bathroom. I'll just get dressed out here,” you relented, in no mood to start an argument or, for that matter, raise the topic of Sam and Dean's unusual behaviour. “Don't worry, Dean, I'll be careful not to make you feel creeped out.” You assured him. “Or myself.” You added in a sotto voice.

“Um, Sam, maybe you **_should_**   let [Y/N] use the bathroom?” Dean suggested, tightening his grip on his coffee cup as his leg began jigging up and down.

“Oh for the love of God, don't **you** start acting up now. I'm getting changed in here. Sam's staying in bathroom. End of!” You declared finally, dropping your clothes and hairbrush onto the bed.

 

Positioning yourself so you were facing away from Dean, you nimbly slid a clean pair of underwear on beneath your towel. Adjusting the waistband of your panties, you called out to Dean over your shoulder-

“Dean, I have to take my towel off. Are you going to be emotionally traumatised?”

“I think I'll be able to cope, [Y/N]. Anyways, I'm makin' breakfast,” Dean was stood in the kitchenette, fixing up his first meal of the day.

“Pie again?” You chuckled, removing your towel and casting it aside.

“Yep!” He affirmed cheerfully, foraging in the small refrigerator.

“Really, Dean? Pie for breakfast? Didn't Sam set some sort of rule, like, no pie before noon?” You twisted your head around, speaking to the older Winchester brother over your shoulder again. Dean stood straight, his packaged pie in hand, and looked back at you.

“He...um...well, yeah. But, y'know, when it comes to food, there are no rules,” he scoffed. You noticed his eyes flicker down the length of your body. He then cleared his throat and turned away, his hands shakily tearing open the packaging of his pie.

“I swear to God, I don't even know how you stay in shape, Dean. Your diet is appalling,” you teased, thinking nothing more of Dean's wandering gaze, then instead, began putting on your bra and fastening it up.

“Actually, speaking of breakfast, do we have any cereal?” You asked, upon feeling your stomach churn and rumble. Now dressed in underwear, you assumed it to be acceptable to wander around freely, and padded over to join Dean in the kitchenette.

 

“Pretty sure we picked some up when we did a supplies run,” Dean pointed out, lovingly easing his pie-laden tray into the oven.

“Sorry, Dean, could you just shuffle to the side? I wanna check the cupboards,” you swung a cupboard door open, going up onto your tiptoes to peer at each shelf.

“Um...[Y/N], you're...” Dean's voice was soft, verging on husky.

“Yuh-huh?” You made an absent-minded sound of acknowledgement, rooting around the other cupboards and stretching your body lithely to examine the contents of each one.

“Um, y'know what, never mind,” he cleared his throat yet again.

“Okay- **_ooo_** ! Found some Cheerios! Fantastico!” You celebrated, seeing a box of the cereal on the very top shelf of the cupboard, toward the back. You reached up for it, fingertips barely grazing the packaging. “Crap! Sam put the groceries away, didn't he? I can't reach the damn box!”

“You, er, want me to get it?” Dean asked.

“Nah, it's okay. I can do this. I'm a strong, independent woman. I use the counters,” you added in a stage whisper, tucking a leg up and placing your knee on the nearest work surface. Grabbing onto the cupboard shelf, you heaved yourself up and managed to snatch the box of Cheerios before hopping back down to ground on your feet.

“I did it! I'm amazing! Bask in my glow of amazing-ness, Dean!” You whooped, holding your cereal box in the air triumphantly and skipping over to the table. “Oh yeah, sorry about the full-on view of my ass you probably got.” You said apologetically, becoming bashful as you set down your cereal.

“Uhhh...don't worry about it, [Y/N],” he shrugged, watching his pie being warmed up in the oven, while spending a curiously prolonged period of time adjusting his sweatpants. For no apparent reason, you found yourself admiring Dean's toned, bare back and his sun-kissed, smooth skin. Shaking your head, you scurried over to the bed to continue dressing.

 

Fully clothed and your hair now carefully brushed, you sat down to a bowl of cereal, munching every spoonful gratefully. Dean, with equal relish, was enjoying his 'breakfast pie'. Neither of you spoke, but you would look up at random intervals and smile at him. In return, he gave you those charming, crooked smiles you'd grown so partial to. For a while, you could kid yourself that nothing had changed between the both of you, that he was the same close friend and brotherly figure you'd become attached to.

The moment Sam exited the bathroom, throwing his towel over his shoulder, Dean swivelled around in his seat.

“What took you so long, Sammy? Did you have to condition your hair?” He threw the jibe in good spirits.

“Ha ha, Dean. Bite me,” Sam retorted, running his fingers through his wet hair. “I'm not the one who keeps using [Y/N]'s mango body butter.”

“Huh, that explains a lot,” you pondered aloud. Dean scoffed at his brother, jabbing his fork in Sam's direction.

“Hey, sneer all you want, Sammy- I know you're just jealous because I have a 'radiant glow' and 'fragrant aroma',” Dean protested, blatantly quoting the description from the tub of your body butter. Sam rolled his eyes expressively. You, on the other hand, were tittering away over your bowl of Cheerios.

“Yeah, Dean, that's exactly why,” the younger Winchester replied sardonically. With Dean still turned around in his seat, you quickly reached across and snatched a scoop of his pie with your spoon. Alerted to the movement in his peripheral vision, Dean swung his head round and fixed you with a mortified stare.

 

“Hey! That's my pie!” He whined in mock-rage. You shoved the spoonful of apple pie into your mouth, smiling at him mischievously. “You...you got Cheerios in my pie!” Dean glanced down at the few deposited oat rings. His outrage had you in a fit of giggles.

“Mmm, that's some good pie right there, Dean,” you moaned after swallowing the pastry and apple filling.

“Oh, don't think you're getting away with that, [Y/N]!” He threatened you jokingly.

“What are you gonna do? Steal a **_forkful_** of my cereal?”

“Watch me!” Dean accepted the challenge, desperately trying to gather a clump of the cereal on his fork- the milk, predictably, spilling through the gaps between the prongs. “Son of a bitch!” He cursed. You broke into peals of laughter.

“Look, [Y/N], Dean's figuring out how different cutlery works,” Sam remarked drily.

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean snarled, successfully gathering a small heap of Cheerios on his fork. “Ha! Ah! See, look at that! I'm **forkin'** awesome, dude!”

“No, you're a **forkin'** idiot,” Sam muttered wryly.

“Ooo, we're breaking out the bad puns already,” you clapped your hands together in false enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Dean was shoving the forkful of cereal into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “So, how does something not covered in pastry or grease taste to you?” You asked him.

“Unfulfilling,” Dean's mouth curled in distaste as he swallowed the food. You grinned widely at him, laughing melodiously. Watching you take joy from his antics, Dean's expression softened from contempt over the cereal to fondness for you. Those beautiful, green eyes of his regarded you with warmth, and his full, pink lips curved into the merest glimmer of a smile. Initially, you thought he'd returned to his brotherly self; that he would go back to ruffling your hair, coming out with hilarious comments that would have you giggling away or even just chattering to you the way he used to.

This time, something seemed different in his expression. You realised there wasn't simply fondness in his eyes, there was something _**else**_   that you couldn't quite pinpoint. Were you a more suspicious person, you might have deemed his watchful gaze as **_hungry_**.

Whatever the nature of his look, one thing was certain- it was a far cry from 'brotherly tenderness'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter? :D
> 
> P.S. I apologise if you don't like Cheerios ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom! Chapter three, my groovy beans! :D 
> 
> I intended to add a bit more to this chapter, namely the real drama, but then I had a change of heart and decided I'd pop the 'catalytic' event in the next chapter because...I'm a horrible person who's reeeeaaallly enjoying drawing this out ^.^ hehe.
> 
> Hope you lovely people like this chapter!! <3

Lounging in the back seat of the Impala, as the three of you made your way to the local diner donning your 'FBI agent' disguises, you were listening to Sam explaining the reason for making the visit.

“So get this, the last person to see the latest victim was working the night shift at this diner. **_Jake O'Riley_**. Apparently he saw the guy leave with a 'tall, dark-haired woman'. I figure we could interview the diner employee, see if he can give us more specific details about this woman,” Sam said.

“What if he's not working this morning? We find out when his next shift is?” You piped up from the back.

“Exactly,” he confirmed.

“Fair enough. I hope we can get this done quick. I hate wearing this outfit, the jacket is stifling and this skirt keeps riding up,” you complained bitterly, tugging at the hem of your black pencil skirt which had- much to your chagrin-bunched up at mid-thigh level. “Stupid thing.” You muttered irritably. Sam turned round to look at you, only to find you struggling with your clothing in the backseat.

“Okay back there, [Y/N]?” Dean asked, glancing in his rear view mirror.

“Yeah. Just having a wardrobe crisis- **_oh c'mon_**!” You groaned impatiently, lifting your backside up off the seat and having to open your legs out to properly adjust the troublesome skirt. “I shouldn't have bought this size-it was too small to start with.”

“Why did you...if you don't mind me asking?” Sam inquired, swivelling back to face forward in the passenger's seat, his voice soft and pitched a little higher than usual. There was a brief silence in the car.

 

“Because...I liked the way it made my butt look in the dressing room,” you finally admitted, heat rushing to your cheeks, “Neither of you say a word. I can practically hear your scornful laughter already. If it counts for anything, the bigger size was too loose. There wasn't a happy medium for me.”

“Ah, well, it ain't your fault they didn't have a size in between,” Dean said, much to your surprise, instead of cracking a joke or making a playfully crass remark as he would have done typically. “We could take you to a different store so you can buy another skirt, if you want?” He offered warmly.

“Aw, Dean, it's okay. I didn't mean to seem whiny,” you relented.

“You didn't, princess, relax. Offer's on the table if you wanna take it,” he replied, his green eyes looking at you momentarily in the rear view mirror.

“Thanks, Dean. I might take you up on that offer if I have to keep adjusting this damn thing today,” you grinned at him.

“For the record, I'm not gonna lie- that skirt looks real nice on you... but you'd still look stunnin' even if you wore a garbage bag,” he added, his usual confident manner laced with trepidation; as though offering you such a compliment was verging on being inappropriate. Sam gave his brother an edgy sideways glance.

“Aww, Dean, thank you. I'd be giving you a hug right now if you weren't driving, so I'll do this instead-” You sat up on the back-seat and shuffled along so you were directly behind Dean. Then, leaning forward over the leather seats, you pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I love you, you cheese-ball.” You told him affectionately, settling back into your seat and flashing a beaming smile at him in the rear view mirror.

“Love you too, princess,” he spoke after a moment of pensive quietude.

 

Dean slowly pulled up at the cafe diner's almost-deserted parking lot. Turning off the Impala's engine, he stared thoughtfully at the diner.

“Get your best bitch faces on, people, we're FBI agents now,” he said wryly.

“C'mon, let's get this over with,” Sam sighed, opening his passenger side door. The three of you exited the car, smoothing out your outfits of any creases and striding toward the diner. “Remember; if he's not in, we find out when his next shift is.”

“Got it, Sammy,” Dean acknowledged. You gave him a thumbs-up by way of confirmation. The three of you made a very professional entrance; Dean, especially, playing the role with effortless confidence, pretending to adjust the lapels of his black jacket before whipping out his fake FBI badge. On cue, you and Sam pulled out your own false badges.

“Excuse me, sir, could we speak to a Mr O'Riley? I'm Agent Anderson- these are my partners, Agents Donovan and Lloyd-” Dean introduced the three of you with stern assuredness.

“You're talking to him, Agent,” the guy behind the counter responded. He was young, in his mid-twenties, with an unruly mop of dark, shiny hair, soulful bright blue eyes and a face that had probably made many a woman swoon. He seemed so out of place working in a bleak diner. “Is this about that last guy? The one they found murdered? They seem pretty sure I was the last one to see him.”

“You don't appear certain yourself?” Sam probed tactfully.

“Hmm, well, nothing to say nobody else saw him before he died. All I saw was him leaving with a woman,” Jake O'Riley shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Yes, that was mentioned in multiple reports. Mr O'Riley, could you describe her in detail so we can have a greater visual profile? She'll be a prime suspect in this case. We also have reason to believe she may be connected with the string of homicides in the vicinity,” you asked, drawing out a notepad and pen from the inside of your fitted suit-jacket.

 

“Of course, Agent, I'd be happy to help,” Jake flashed you a crooked smile, leaning forward on the counter. You were quickly aware of his flirtatious tone and focused gaze. This was rather unexpected, but you chose to use his attraction to you to your advantage; in order to extract as much information from him as possible.

“Thank you. If you could list any distinctive features, that would be valuable,” you said, the tip of your pen poised above the small, blank square of paper.

“Sure thing, Agent. She was tall, like five-ten at the least. Really long, dark hair, braided in places. There was a kinda bohemian, artsy look to her-all bangles and bead jewellery,” Jake reeled off, pausing momentarily, as though trying to recall something.

“Anything else you noticed about her?” Sam inquired.

“Just trying to remember,” Jake rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut.

“What was her build like? Did she look like she came from a particular racial background? Anything at all you can think of, it'll go toward our investigation,” Dean said.

“Ah, well, she was kinda tan, I guess. Like, I dunno, golden brown? Quite...exotic looking? Can I say that?”

“Yes, that's acceptable,” you said pragmatically, making note of it.

“She was well built, sorta, um, curvy. But athletic looking at the same time,” Jake added.

“Anything else?” You asked, writing down bullet point notes of what he was telling you.

 

“Well, there was this other thing...but it'll sound kinda crazy-” Jake stalled.

“Rest assured, we've seen our fair share of 'crazy'. Don't leave out any potentially useful details, Mr O'Riley,” Sam pointed out.

“Ahh...well...it was her eyes. They were kinda...weird. They should have been brown, I would have thought, but they were, um, yellowish. It was freaky. And she didn't smile much. Just spoke quietly to the guy for a while, straight-faced, and he was hanging onto every word she was saying. Seriously, Agent, there was something just **_off_**   about her. Like, she was interesting in one way, I found myself watching her...but at the same time, I wanted to get away from her, too. I can't explain it, I really can't,” Jake opened up significantly, and you were madly scribbling down condensed versions of the information he was giving you all.

“Was there anything unusual about the victim's behaviour?” Dean inquired.

“He seemed totally fixated on her, completely mesmerised. No joke, I figure if she'd snapped her fingers and told him to dance for her, he looked like he would have. I told you, she was freaky as fu- um...ahem, freaky as hell,” Jake corrected himself promptly.

“I see. Well, I think we have enough information for the time being,” you concluded, closing your notebook, and slipping both it and the pen back into your jacket. “Thank you for your time, Mr O'Riley.”

“Oh, glad to be of use, Agent,” he responded **_very_**   warmly. He leaned further forward, grinning up at you. “Y'know, if you don't mind me saying, you sure are gorgeous. I know it's inappropriate to talk like this to a federal agent, but I can't help myself. You're totally breath-taking.”

“Thank you, Mr O'Riley” you replied primly, casting a momentary sideways glance at Sam- who was frowning and clenching his jaw. “As you say, however, now is neither the time nor place. It's highly unprofessional.” You continued.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry, Agent, it's just... I thought I'd take a chance. You guys aren't always on the job, you have down-time too. Maybe, one day, when your off the clock...you'd like to get a drink or something?” Jake persevered. You found yourself affording him the tiniest glimmer of a smile.

“You do know how many lines you're crossing here, **_kid_**?” Dean addressed him sharply.

“Yeah, I just-”

“That'll be all. Thank you for your time,” Dean interrupted coldly, both he and Sam turning and walking to the door. You, however, remained.

“Keeping in mind maintaining a professional countenance for the time being, I will merely say- during my free time, I might end up visiting this diner again and, therefore, meeting yourself again. If I happen to be in the mood for companionship, I may accept an offer of a drink. Goodbye, Mr O'Riley and, again, thank you for your assistance,” you told him before turning on your heels and striding forward, a sway to your hips.

 

The moment you were out of the diner, Sam and Dean rounded on you.

“Did you seriously just agree to a **date** with that sleaze-ball?” Dean demanded.

“I didn't **_agree to a date_** ...I just implied that I wouldn't say no to a drink!” You protested.

“[Y/N], we're on a case, you can't just go getting off with random guys who start flirting with you!” Sam chided.

“Hey, like neither of you have ever tried **_getting off_**   with some woman who makes goo-goo eyes at you! What's the deal, you two?! Why have you got a problem with me finding someone to have some fun with?! You've got no right to lecture me!”

“Because...because what if he turns out to be a creep?! Or a fuckin' psycho?! Fuck, he could be a demon, and then we'd have to come save your ass and gank the bastard!” Dean argued.

“What?! So, I shouldn't trust **_any_**   guy who hits on me because he might be a creep or a serial killer or, God forbid, a **_demon_** ? Seriously, guys, get off my back about it. I'm a grown woman, I make my decisions, I live my life how I want to live my life and I accept any mistakes I make-”

“Yeah? What if that mistake gets you hurt or killed?” Sam glared at you.

“You're being melodramatic, guys,” you dismissed them both, storming off in the direction of the Impala. That was until you felt a hand seize hold of your arm and wheel you around. You were sent lurching forward on your stiletto heels.

“Hey! What the hell?!” You snapped, coming face to face with Dean.

“Don't be stupid, we're trying to protect you!” He insisted angrily.

“ ** _From what_** ?! A cute guy who works in a diner! **_Oh no, what possible terrors could he inflict on me_** ?!” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “Face it, guys, you're over-reacting!”

“You shouldn't just trust him straight away, [Y/N]! He could-” Sam began, but you cut him off venomously-

“Oh?! So I'm only **_allowed_** to trust you two now, is that it?!” You yanked your arm from Dean's grasp.

“No, [Y/N], that's-that's not what I-I didn't-” Sam stumbled over his words and while doing so, you seized the opportunity to argue.

“What did you mean, in that case? Why are you both so pissed off about me accepting a guy's attention?” You questioned them both, glowering at the brothers. The Winchester boys remained silent, averting their gazes to the ground and began, as far as you could tell, grinding their teeth and clenching their jaws. You rolled your eyes and gave a heaving sigh. “Jesus, I'm not gonna get an answer from either of you? Y'know what, it doesn't matter. Let's just go.” You threw your hands up in the air in display of impatient despair, turning on your heel and storming off in the direction of the Impala.

 

The drive back to the motel was deeply uncomfortable. While Sam and Dean tried to dispel the tension through an awkward flow of conversation, you sat in dour silence; arms folded across your chest, staring resolutely out of the window at the scenery rolling past.

“So...um...[Y/N], you wanna grab some lunch after we get back?” Sam finally dared to ask you. Slowly, you turned your head away from the window and looked across at him from where you sat.

“Sure,” you responded sullenly.

“Feeling like eating in the motel? Actually, how about maybe we could go somewhere?”

“Yeah,” you answered, now monosyllabic. Sam looked visibly disheartened by your despondency.

“Um...okay. We could go to a cafe or something?”

“We just left a diner not long ago,” you reminded him, a brittle edge to your tone.

“Look, [Y/N], we know you're mad at us for...for sayin' all that stuff back there-” Dean blurted out.

“Astute observation there, Dean,” you remarked sourly.

“Just listen, we got overprotective, okay! No, we didn't think he was a fuckin' demon or God-knows-what in disguise. It's just...we just...” Dean said, before baulking. Sam, however, came to his brother's aid.

“Dean's right, we got too protective. I guess it's become a habit- and we all know how hard they are to break, right? I'm sorry, [Y/N]. We both are. For upsetting you and **_insulting_**   you,” he looked at you dolefully, his eyes full of kindness and love. “It was kinda uncomfortable watching some random guy just...hitting on you, being so open about it. It felt weird having him look at our....our best friend like you were-like you were-”

“-candy he wanted to taste,” Dean muttered resentfully. You saw his hands grip the wheel tighter and his knuckles whiten.

“So naturally, we wanted to kick his ass. Unfortunately, being so caught up in wanting to beat the crap out of him, we forgot to respect your opinion on the matter. We treated you like some precious object we had to guard. That's not cool, and for doing that, we are so, so sorry,” Sam reached over the seat and held his hand out to you. There was such sincerity in his tender expression, you couldn't help but accept his offered hand and squeeze it gently.

“You know I still love you guys, right? Even if you act like total douche-nuggets,” you told them, smiling shyly at Sam.

“I guess we need reminding sometimes,” Sam spoke softly, smiling back at you, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

* * *

 With the momentary fissure in your relationship with the Winchesters repaired, you were all able to start chatting and joking once more. Still, you sensed that slight restraint in their behaviour; the restraint which had become evident in the past month or so. You chose to ignore it for a time, and enjoy the amiable conversation with the brothers.

After heading back to the hotel and changing into casual clothes, the three of you ventured off in search of a cafe for your lunch. Stopping in the small, local town- which definitely possessed that 'close-knit community' vibe- you all strolled along the side-walk, making a purposeful beeline for a quaint cafe you'd pointed out to the brothers.

While the locals were pleasant enough, there was definitely an air of trepidation in lieu of the recent killings in the area. It was unsurprising people were on edge; not only were the deaths grisly, but there had been no luck in even finding a suspect- never mind a perpetrator. A killer was on the loose, and the townsfolk were keeping their guard up. So if there were a few unsmiling fellow pedestrians, or furtive looks cast your way, you simply understood and accepted them as being 'on high alert'.

Furtive looks weren't the only kind being cast your way. Quite a few men (and, you were pretty damn sure, a couple of women too) were plucked from their anxious states by the power of hormones and ogled you; whether it be short, interested glances, triple-takes or shameless roving of their eyes up and down your body- you were definitely raking in the looks.

 _ **Damn, either these people don't get visitors often or I'm particularly magnetic today** _ , you pondered bemusedly.

You weren't exactly dressed inappropriately or in an attention-seeking manner. You'd selected a scoop-neck tank top, a beautiful, airy kimono jacket, a soft, figure-hugging skirt that reach mid-thigh level and ballet flats; a perfectly summery, classy combination for a warm day.

 

“Is it just me, or is there a lotta people looking at you, [Y/N]?” Sam asked quietly, out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, there's a lot of dudes lookin' at you, princess,” Dean muttered.

“'Maybe they're looking at **_you_** , Sam? Perhaps they're envious of your lustrous mane of hair?” You remarked impishly.

“Nope, they're definitely looking at you,” Sam persisted.

“Yeah, Sam, I kinda noticed a while ago. And it's not **that** many people,” you sighed.

“It is! Man, they're fully checkin' you out, [Y/N],” Dean said. The tone of his voice wasn't amused like it would have been. He sounded... _ **irritated**_ . You assumed it to be just another protective urge.

“Or, maybe-just maybe- they're looking at all three of us and wondering if we're either A, a ploy-amorous trio about to find a place to have hot, passionate sex, B, a trio of serial killers or C, really fucking awesome? I wanna say C, but I feel B lurking in there somewhere,” you said wryly. “C'mon guys, let it go!” Walking between the brothers, you were able to squeeze their hands simultaneously, as you approached the cafe.

“Lunch time, fellas,” you crooned, swinging open the door and to be greeted by a tinkling bell.

 

Sat around a table, waiting for your orders, you and the Winchesters talked, teasing one another occasionally. However, the moment your lunches were brought across, the focus shifted from conversation to food quickly. Dean was positively cooing over his burger, chilli cheese fries and onion rings. It was strangely endearing to see a grown man get so excited over fast food. Sam looked delighted to see his pasta salad set in front of him. In turn, you were pleased to see your scrambled eggs on toast with a side portion of beans; a comforting, humble meal. Wielding your knife and fork, you made a tiny squeak of joy as you looked down at your lunch. Both brothers looked up, flashing devastatingly handsome grins at you.

“[Y/N]...I guess you're pretty **egg** -static about your lunch, huh?” Dean asked coyly. You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes at him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that,” you said.

“Oh, Dean, she's gonna **egg** -nore us now,” Sam joined in with the atrocious pun 'humour'.

“Really, [Y/N]? You're gonna be like that? I **egg** -spected more from you,” Dean looked at you in mock-disappointment.

“Guys, shut up,” you set down your cutlery and started to rake your fingers through your hair in agitation.

“[Y/N], don't tell us to shut up, that's not a very **knife** thing to say,” Sam was suppressing a smirk.

“I hate you both,” you dropped your head into hands, but couldn't help giggling at the terrible puns.

“Uh oh, Sam, [Y/N] must be pretty **cheesed** off right now-” Dean remarked.

“That's not even a pun!” You interjected, only to be followed by a sly comment from Sam-

“We annoyed you, [Y/N]? That's a hell of an a- **cheese** -ment!”

“I hate you both. I'm going to kill you in your sleep,” you snorted loudly, shaking your head at the brothers. They smiled brightly, laughing at your mingled amusement and exasperation. As the three of you settled down and began to eat, you started to convince yourself things had returned to the way they were. You would later be proven horribly wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I apologise if any of you hate scrambled eggs. Or kimono jackets :3 seriously, if I ever get too descriptive about clothing Reader wears or food she eats, you substitute for whatever you want. I try to keep these second person fics as open as possible, but sometimes, description is unavoidable :3
> 
> Lots of hugs to you all, folks! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks, chapter four is here! Just as a heads up, there is some violence and emotional conflict in this chapter :s I promise there will be some sweet lovin' in the NEXT chapter, but this is the sort of 'shit has hit the fan', turbulent chapter :3 please don't hate me :'D
> 
> Read on, and fingers crossed, enjoy <3
> 
> P.S. On a side-note, as I stated in the first chapter- the Nagaraja vampire is a creation of the people who made the Vampire Masquerade games, so obviously I claim no ownership of it. I have, however, taken some creative liberties (purely for the sake of the fic) and given this 'type' of vamp some additional abilities- or at least, abilities I don't actually know if the game creators 'gave them' in the first place :D
> 
> P.S.S. Sorry for any errors :)

_You woke upon a floor, feeling foggy and disorientated, gradually opening your eyes. The first thing you became aware of was the damp smell of rotting wood; the underlying stench of decay in the air. Eyes fully open, you tried to take in your surroundings._

_An abandoned theatre hall..._

_You were laying on the stage, surrounded by the debris of a decrepit building; chunks of plaster, sections of framework and dislodged ceiling panels. The hall was the visual definition of 'neglect'. Plant-life had even begun invading the dilapidated building, creeping ivy pushing in through the shattered windows and clinging to the peeling walls. The rows of seats-those that remained upright and unmauled by animals using the hall as shelter- were coated in a thick layer of dust and crumbled plaster. Looking again out of the windows, you saw it was late dusk, soon to become twilight; areas of the theatre hall now bathed in shadow.  
_

_Slowly propping yourself, your hands pressed against the softening wood of the stage floor, the fear began to set in. Glancing around frantically, breaths quickening, you fought the urge to cry out for Sam and Dean._

_"Ah, ma chere, you're awake! I was hoping you'd come round soon, I'm just **dying** for a little chat," a woman's voice purred from the shadows. It was deep, sultry, her speech bearing the slightest trace of a French accent.  _

_"Who the fuck are you?! Why have you brought me here?!" You demanded hoarsely. Emerging from the shadows was a tall, athletically built woman; her ebony hair in immaculate braids that ended just below her waist, the light of late dusk revealing the woman's cafe au lait skin._

**_Shit_ ** _, you thought, recalling Jake O'Riley's description..._

 

_"You're...you're the vampire. The Nagaraja," you said, voice a terrified whisper. The woman smiled widely, the light glinting on a mouthful of steadily descending razor-sharp, pointed teeth. She raised her hands and began... **applauding** you, her numerous bangles rattling and clattering together.  
_

_"Smart girl. You catch on quick, don't you, [Y/N]?"  She walked towards you with confident, swaying steps, ceasing her facetious applause.  
_

_"How'd you-?" You began to ask, but the vampire interrupted you._

_"I've known who you were since you and the Winchesters arrived in this pitiful town. I've known your **name** since you and those two obnoxious imbeciles came striding into the diner posing as federal agents," she scoffed, resting her hands on her waist. "I've been observing you all for a while. Did you honestly think I would let myself be **hunted** by three arrogant mortals? I **am** a hunter! **I** don't get stalked and preyed upon! I prey upon **you -** simple, worthless sacks of flesh and blood!" She spat acridly, before stopping at the foot of stage, and folding her arms atop it. A pair of golden yellow eyes stared coldly at you.  
_

_"But I digress. Allow me to introduce myself, [Y/N]," the vampire took a step back, and held her hands out in a elegantly theatrical manner. "My name is Giselle Beauvais, and when your **companions** finally arrive to rescue their fellow 'hunter' so I can eliminate them- slowly and painfully, in the name of every brother and sister of mine they've  **slaughtered** -I promise you this, **ma chere**....my face will be the last you ever see." _

* * *

  **Five hours earlier...  
**

 "Guys, _**come on**_!" You persisted, holding onto an arm of both Winchester brothers and shaking them. They stood stock still, digging their toes into the sidewalk, resolutely determined not to enter the town's bowling alley.

"No!" The both of them said in unison.

" _ **Please**_ ! We don't do fun stuff anymore!" You whined petulantly.

"[Y/N], we're on a case," Sam reminded you gently.

"So? Doesn't stop us from taking a break now and again," you argued.

"I'm not fuckin' bowling, [Y/N]," Dean grumbled.

"Why not?! You can take out your aggression on the pins! And you can get _**even more fries**_!"

" _ **No**_ !" He refused stubbornly.

"C'mon, you guys, please! I don't wanna go back to the motel and sit there for _**hours**_ doing yet more research! Plus, I haven't been bowling for _**so long**_ !"

"You've never once complained about the research before, [Y/N]? I thought you knew it came as part of the life we lead?" Sam seemed startled by your declaration of boredom.

"No, I knew! Look, I'm exaggerating **slightly**...but c'mon, you two, there's only so long you can keep your head in a book before you go crazy!" You groaned.

"Whatever, I'm not bowling! I refuse to wear those nasty shoes that _**other people have worn**_! No, not happening! I ain't wearing the same shoes ol' Tubby Tim crammed his sweaty, toe-jammy feet in!" Dean insisted, his face scrunched up in disgust. You deduced that you would have to use your feminine wiles to win the brothers over.

 

"Dean," you said softly and plaintively, giving him your best approximation of forlorn 'puppy eyes'.

"No, that's not workin' on me, [Y/N]," Dean turned his head.

"Please, Dean," you implored, gently releasing Sam's hand and taking a step towards the older Winchester. " _ **Pretty please**_?" You crooned, getting into his eyeline.

"Nope," he repeated, but his voice had cracked slightly. You wrapped your arms around him in a cosy hug, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You couldn't help noticing how amazing he smelt; his natural musky scent mixed with soap and coffee, a comforting aroma.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," you tried to persaude him.

"Hmm," he was starting to cave in, turning his head so his cheek touched the side of your face and winding his strong arms around you.

"It will! I promise!" You brought your head back so you were looking at him straight-on. Had your faces been any closer, it would have looked to passers by that the two of you were about to kiss one another. Dean's green eyes roamed across your face, thoughtfully.

"Maybe," he said, "Okay...okay, I give in." He smiled at you fondly. In response, you squeaked excitedly, grinning at the hunter and hopping up and down.

"Yay! What about you, Sammy?!" You gently disentangled yourself from Dean's surprisingly firm hold on you, and steadily worked your way towards the younger Winchester brother. "Oops, sorry, I mean 'Sam'." You quickly corrected yourself.

"You can call me 'Sammy', [Y/N]," he predicted your next move, and hugged you first. Taller than yourself, as you looked up at him, he had to look down at you; all tender smiles and crinkled eyes.

" _ **Sammy**_ , would you like to go bowling, too? Or at least, be willing to for my sake?" You reiterated sweetly, resting your up-tilted chin against his chest.

"Like I'm gonna say 'no' to you now," he chuckled.

"Eeee! Thank you!" You squeezed him in your friendly embrace, involuntarily wiggling your hips from side to side in a gesture of cheerful enthusiasm. Somebody from across the street wolf-whistled at the unintentionally appealing display. Sam immediately looked up, eyes narrowed at that 'someone' across the street. He moved his hands to your upper arms, his grip not uncomfortably tight and very protective.

"C'mon, let's go before that jackass starts askin' for a show," Dean snarled, his handsome features set in a stone-hard glare.

 

As it turned out, not only was the bowling alley peacefully quiet, but none of you had to swap your footwear for the grotesque two-tone shoes.

"Aww, man, I haven't done this in years! This is gonna be awesome!" You chattered jubilantly, bounding over to your allocated lane. Nearby there were a few groups of friends, all talking and joking amongst themselves at their own lanes. The group closest to the three of you was a group of young guys; all friends judging by the camaraderie.

"If you say so," Dean smirked, as he and Sam settled down on the bench. Keying in your names for the system, you tilted your head at them coquettishly.

"Can I go first?"

"Go nuts, princess," Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Whoo hoo!" You cheered. As soon as you'd entered the names (earning the greatest 'bitch face' from Dean, as well as hooting laughter from Sam, for putting him down as 'Lil D') you skipped forward, hefting one of the heavier bowling balls and steadily made a beeline for the lane. With a quick look over your shoulder at your best friends, both of whom were watching you intently, you smiled anxiously.

"Um, yeah, guys- please don't laugh at me too hard if I fuck up. I genuinely haven't done this in a while, so there's a good chance this won't go so well," you laughed shakily.

"Just do your best, [Y/N]. Think of me and Dean as moral support," Sam piped up from his seat on the bench.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" You teased, looking back at the lane. Glancing to the side, you noticed the group of young guys observing you with amiable curiosity.

"Ha...guess I have an audience now," you joked aloud. One of the guys- who had his long dreadlocks tied back, the lighting of the bowling alley casting an oddly beautiful glow on his dark walnut coloured skin- smiled warmly at you. "Well, here goes!"

Taking a few steps forward, you hunkered down, leant forward, bringing your arm back and launched the ball forward. Unfortunately, being so out of practise, your aim was off and your throw lacking power behind it. It was a rather depressing sight, seeing the ball swerve into the gutter and roll forward sedately, before dropping down.

 

"Well shit, I done fucked up," you decided to make light of the situation, throwing your arms up in the air and wandering back to the ball return. There were a couple of quiet chuckles from the group next to you. Dean was whooping in hysterics, whereas Sam had his lips pressed together; his expression mingling suppressed amusement and shared embarrassment.

"Sammy, you're gonna burst a blood vessel. Just laugh," you sighed at him. The younger Winchester snorted loudly, leaning against his laughing brother and joining in with the mirth. You pouted at them both, hands on your hips. "Moral support, huh, guys?" You challenged them.

"Your technique's a little rusty," said a deep, soothing voice behind you. Turning around, you saw the guy with dreadlocks, who'd smiled kindly at you, standing before you. He was tall, with an Adonis-like physique and an incredibly handsome face. Regarding you with smouldering, chocolate-brown eyes, you couldn't help but smile up at him.

"A 'little rusty' is kind of an understatement, but thanks for being sweet," you said. He grinned- and Christ, if your breath didn't catch in your throat at the dazzling sight-and chuckled.

"Your welcome. Truthfully, I was kinda hoping you'd mess up so I could have a valid, non-creepy excuse for coming over to talk to you. Maybe offer to help you...work on your technique?" He managed to harness the dual power of confident flirtation and slight bashfulness that had your heart fluttering, the heat rushing to your face suddenly. There was something unmistakably captivating about him. You were so enthralled, you barely noticed Sam and Dean's faded laughter.

"Y'know, you wouldn't have needed an excuse to come talk to me," you assured him kittenishly, "But you could show me how to improve my technique. Help me get my game back, right?" You smiled coyly at him.

"I'd love to. C'mon," he picked up the bowling ball you'd used previously, which had reappeared in the ball-return. Holding your hand in a gentle grip, he guided you forward to the lane, and positioned you at a distance away from the foul line before standing directly behind you.

 

"I don't even know your name," you purred over your shoulder.

"Caiden. Nice to meet you, [Y/N]," he spoke softly in your ear.

"I'm guessing you overheard," you presumed.

"Yeah. Sorry. I couldn't keep my eyes off you, so I was maybe a little **_too_**   tuned in to your conversation with your... _ **friends**_?"

"No need to apologise for that. And they're my friends, yeah," you affirmed, smiling up at him.

"I don't know how to break it to you, but considering they're just your friends, they looked kinda pissed off when I started flirting with you?"

"They're more like best friends to me, so they get very protective. S'okay, though, it's nothing more than that," you assured him.

"I'm glad. I wouldn't wanna cause a feud or anything. For you, though, I'd sure as hell fight if I had to," Caiden crooned, handing you the bowling ball and slyly resting his hands on your waist. Under his touch, your body shivered.

"That was both romantic and corny. Nicely done," you teased lightly.

"I'm pulling out all the stops, [Y/N]," Caiden whispered.

 

Caiden spent a signifcant amount of time helping you acquire the 'ideal' stance, offering gentle instruction and altering the position of your legs or arms carefully. Still pressed against you while your bent forward partially, he was making no secret of the physical and sexual attraction between the two of you. His body was so firm, taut with a healthy layer of muscle. What amazed you was how light his touch was, for a man with such strength.

_**He knows exactly how to touch a woman**_ , you found yourself thinking lewdly. Again, your cheeks flamed, and almost as though he'd read your mind, Caiden ran a hand along your side- raising goosepimples over your flesh.

"Hope I'm not being too forward?" He inquired huskily.

"Oh, n-no, I like it," you giggled, your whole body growing warm.

"Good. Wanna try your luck with this bowl?" Caiden wound his arms around you, to rest his palms on the ball in your hands.

"Definitely," you said breathlessly.

"Go for it, [Y/N]," he urged you. Taking his advice into consideration, you brought your arm back, leant forward on your leading leg- and bowled with far more strength and accuracy. Watching in anticipation as the ball went hurtling forward, you squeezed your hands into fists and bounced up and down nervously on the balls of your feet. With a satisfying _**thunk**_ ,the ball smacked the set of pins, knocking down every single one. You shrieked delightedly, and jumped in the air, punching your fists up in celebration. You span around, and grabbed hold of Caiden's hands, swaying them from side to side.

 

"I got a strike! I got a strike! Awwww yeaaaahhh!" You cheered. Caiden laughed, appearing genuinely pleased you were so happy.

"Well done!" He told you.

"Wouldn't have done it without you," you smiled radiantly up at him, going on your tiptoes and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Caiden's friends, who'd managed to stay relatively quiet up until that point, began whistling and jeering playfully.

"I'm very glad I decided to come bowling today," he reached up with one hand, to graze his fingertips over the spot on his cheek where you'd placed the kiss. "So...I was thinking maybe...could I get your number?"

"You sure can. But I haven't got anything to write it down on-"

"You can tell me. I'll remember," Caiden insisted. Uttering your phone number to him, he tapped his temple, "All up here. I'll text you. Maybe we could meet up? For a drink or...whatever we feel like at the time." 

"You're leaving that open to interpretation, huh?"

"Not too much to intepret there, I thought?" Caiden said, with a crooked smile, brushing back a few strands of hair away from your face.

"Fair point, given I caught on as soon as you finished speaking," you rallied.

"Smart girl," he quipped. Quite suddenly, you felt a hand seize your arm and drag you away...

 

" _ **Dean**_! What the hell?!" You squawked.

"We're _**leaving**_!" The older Winchester snapped.

"You can't just grab me like that!" You protested furiously. "I'm not a child!"

"We're going! Deal with it!"

"I think she has the right to decide whether she leaves or not," Caiden said firmly.

"Back off, asshole, you've been tryin' to use every trick in the book to get in her fuckin' pants. Don't start preaching to me!" Dean spat at the other man.

" _ **Dean**_ !" You yelped, staggering as he yanked you along. "Stop it! Sam, c'mon! Tell him to back off!" You beseeched the younger hunter, but you were met with a glacial attitude.

"Well, it's not like you were interested in playing the game, so might as well leave, right? Makes sense. Unless you wanna stand around flirting and kissing random guys all day?" He said rather callously.

"Sam?" You felt your chest ache at his coldness. Without so much as a glance in your direction, the younger brother stalked off ahead of you and Dean.

"You guys are assholes! She can do whatever she wants! You've got no right to treat her like that!" Caiden called out angrily.

"Shut the hell up, you sleazy fucker!" Dean cussed him out. You struggled with his vice-like grip on your arm, hissing and swearing at him.

"Dean, get your fucking hand off me!"

"You plan on runnin' off?!"

" _ **What**_ ?! What is wrong with you two?!" You managed to yank free of his hold, before storming off, silently fuming.

* * *

You'd been so upset and infuriated, during the car journey back to the motel, you hadn't uttered a single word; instead, shaking and crying silently with rage in the backseat of the Impala. The very moment, however, the three of you were in your motel room- the fury within you erupted with volcanic force, and you stamped across to the beside table, seized your small cosmetics bag and hurled it at Dean.

"[Y/N]! Why-" He flinched, looking astonished, as the bag struck him on the side of his head.

"DON'T YOU EVEN FUCKING DARE ASK _**WHY**_!" You screamed, picking up a book you'd left on the table and, this time, flinging it at Sam. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!"

"[Y/N]! Look, what we did back there-" Sam held up his hands in submission.

"Sam, don't even think about trying to apologise! The two of you treated me like some fucking deliquent _**slut**_ that you have to keep under control! You dragged me out of there like I'd been behaving badly! You talked down to me! Most of all, you completely, totally DISRESPECTED MY FREEDOM!" You screeched at the two of them.

"We were just lookin' out for you-" Dean started some feeble excuse, but you charged forward, getting in his face.

"How in the hell was that 'looking out for me'?! How can you even delude yourselves into thinking that was 'protecting' me?! And protecting me from _**what**_ , may I ask?!" You jabbed a finger into his chest, your face contorted with wrath.

"He was just gonna use you!"

"Oh fuck you, Dean! That's pathetic!" You sneered at him.

"You wanted to do something fun! We agreed, we were willing to do whatever you wanted because we care about you, and you-you just spent your time flirting with that guy! You let him get his hands all over you, then you go  _ **kissing**_ him! You-you were acting like...acting like-" Sam became flustered. Moving across to him, invading his personal space, you stared up at him with a murderous glare.

"Acting like _**what**_ , Sam?! Go on, fucking say it! You think I was acting like a slut?! A whore?! A tramp?! A filthy bitch who wants to open her legs for any guy who looks her way?! Go on, _**say it**_!" You shoved the the taller brother. "C'mon, say it!" You shoved him again, goading him. " _ **SAY IT**_!" You pummelled your fists against his chest.

"FINE! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE ACTING LIKE A SLUT!" Sam bellowed. Painfully tense silence filled the motel room for few moments. You looked from Sam to Dean, disgusted disbelief evident on your face.

 

"D'you call your brother a 'slut' when he flirts with women, Sam? When he's practically hanging off their tits and feeding them the usual string of pick-up lines and innuendos? Dean, do you call Sam a 'slut' if he finds a lady friend for a short while? No to all of those, boys?! Congratulations, guys, you're officially fucking hypocrites!" You finally said, clapping sarcastically and casting them a baleful stare.

"Y'know what, this isn't about double standards, this is about _**trust**_! We trust you not to go flirting with those guys, because they could end up screwing you over and hurting you and then-" Sam started, but you laughed derisively.

"Jesus Christ, you guys have to be seriously fucked up in the head to think that! First off, neither of you are my boyfriend- _**trust**_ _ **ing me not to flirt**_ is completely irrelevant here, I flirt with who I want to flirt with, I fuck whoever I want to fuck-" You saw both brothers flinch and clench their jaws, "-the fact of the matter is, when it comes to trust...neither of you can talk!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Dean looked affronted.

"It means, I've trusted you- as my _**best friends**_ -to always be honest with me. I've trusted you to treat me with respect. I've never lied to you two, have I? I've never been disrespectful of your needs and rights? You've not exactly been showing me the same courtesy lately," you said.

"What?" Sam frowned, confused.

"For the past month, you both keep acting weird and antsy around me. Like I make you uncomfortable. You've been treating me differently, talking to me different, _**looking**_ at me differently! I catch you staring at me like I'm some fucking circus freak- **that** makes me feel like shit! I don't get it, I've loved you two like crazy, you've been like brothers to me. I could finally be the person I wanted to be when I was with you both, and you valued me for it. Now...I walk into the room and catch you muttering and whispering, and I feel like...I've become some sort of intruder into your lives. Like neither of you wants me around anymore. I don't understand, I really don't. I've thought over it so many times, wondered if I did _**something**_...but I can't figure out why you've both been like this," you swallowed, a lump forming in your throat as anger faded into sorrow. "It hurts being around you both. I keep thinking I've lost the only people I've ever truly cared about, and who I honestly believed truly cared about **me**. It hurts so much."

"[Y/N], no..." Sam breathed out, utterly stricken.

"I think...I think I should leave. After we figure out this Nagaraja case, I'll head back home and leave you guys to it. I've obviously lost my 'place' amongst you. I'd rather back out in dignity than be pushed out entirely one day," your voice thickened, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I'm gonna get my stuff and book another room. If we get a lead on anything, text me, call me, whatever."

 

Wiping the tears away fiercely, you backed away, regaining your bearings. Then with purpose, you gathered up your belongings and started shoving them into your travel bag. Sam and Dean were speechless, rooted to the spots where they stood. Folding your clothes and packing them away, tears continuing to drip down your face, you suddenly felt a warm hand on your back. Turning your head, you saw Sam behind you.

"[Y/N]...please don't do this. Look, we're sorry and we'll explain one day-"

"Explain now, and I'll consider staying," you told him curtly.

"I...I can't. We can't. Not yet, we just..."

"Then it's simple. I'm not staying. Until you can explain your behaviour, I'm not hanging around any longer," you shifted your body forward, shaking yourself free of Sam's hand. The young Winchester persisted, holding onto your upper arms-

"[Y/N], _**please**_ , don't go," he implored.

"Sam, please take your hands off me. Don't make this difficult, I want things to at least remain civil between us," you said tremulously, tensing your body beneath his touch. Realising his attempts at convincing you to stay were utterly futile, Sam took his hands away, letting them fall to his sides limply. Shoving the last of your possessions into the travel bag, you zipped it up, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent motel room. Heaving your bag up, you turned and made a beeline for the door, not stopping to look at the devastated expressions on the faces of your 'ex'-best friends. Though, as you drifted past Dean, he clung to your hand.

"Sweetheart, please," he sounded choked up.

"Explain, Dean, or let me go," you told him, unable to look at his face for fear of bursting into tears.

"I can't...I want to but...it's too..." Dean struggled.

"Let me go, Dean," you repeated numbly.

"Sweetheart, [Y/N], no, please-" He clutched your hand tighter. You pulled it free and hurried over to the door.

"See you around, guys," you bid them farewell, opening the door and stepping out into the warm, summer evening. As soon as you shut the door behind you, you heard Dean call out your name for the final time. Walking to the reception, you sobbed wretchedly. Even though you would stay with them for the Nagaraja case, the relationship between you and the Winchesters had been shattered. The moment the case was finished, you would leave, never to see them again. Never to talk to them, joke around with them...never feel that acceptance and love you'd so cherished.

You'd lost two best friends in the same night, and it was absolute agony.

* * *

Curled up on the bed of your own motel room, heartbroken, you stared at the screen of your phone; half-hoping for a message or call from Sam or Dean. The longer you waited, the more crippled with despair you became. After several minutes, you shut your eyes tightly, wracked with sobs, your tears soaking into the bedclothes. Wishing you could go back in time, a few months before, to the happy memories you shared with the Winchester brothers; of goofing around and sharing pie with Dean, of curling up next to Sam on the couch as he slowly combed his fingers through your hair and of mirthful conversations with both men. You wanted to re-live those precious moments and cling to them for dear life to save you from this sinking pit of loss. Caught in reminiscence, you nearly ignored the tiny alterting chime of your phone.

Springing to life, you snatched up your phone, to check your messages- praying internally for it to be either one of two certain people. Instead, with a fleeting sense of diappointment, it was neither Sam nor Dean- but, in fact, someone else-

**Hey, it's Caiden :) told you I'd remember your number ;p hope you're okay? I couldn't believe what happened at the alley- your 'friends' are jerks :( xxx**

With a sigh, you texted him back.

**Hi, Caiden :) glad you remebered :D I've been better...me and my friends have, shall we say, parted ways. I'm actually kind of upset at the moment, so I'm not going to be much fun to talk to xxx**

Shortly after sending your message, your phone chimed again.

**I'm so sorry, [Y/N] :(  I feel responsible for the shit that went down :(  if you want, I could come round to you and we could just talk? It's always good to have company in these situations, right? xxx P.S. who says you have to be 'fun'? I felt happy just being around you :p**

You couldn't help but smile at his kindly demeanour.

**Some company would be nice :) and don't blame yourself for what happened. That was because of stuff going on with them :s xxx**

**I'm sorry to hear that. I'll come round :) where abouts are you? xxx**

Giving him the details of the motel, he let you know he'd be there as soon as possible. Dashing to the bathroom to wipe away your tear stains and smudged mascara, you then washed your face and dragged a brush through your hair to tidy it up. Foraging in your travel bag, you pulled out a can of bodyspray and spritzed over yourself for a fresher fragrance. You then sat on your bed, fidgeting as you waited for Caiden to arrive.

 

Twenty minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door of your motel room. You leapt up from the bed and darted forward, tugging back the door eagerly. Caiden was stood there, briefly taken aback by your hasty reply.

"Hey," you greeted him breathlessly.

"Hey to you too," he smiled sympathetically. "How are you holding up?"

The sudden reminder of the situation with Sam and Dean brought home an abundance of emotion. Clutching at the door, you stared up at Caiden, opening your mouth to reply- but instead unable even to speak a single word. Feeling your eyes sting and well up, you pressed your lips together, face slowly crumpling. The very moment the first tear rolled down your cheek, you began to sob desolately. Caiden was quick to step forward and comfort you, wrapping his muscular arms around you and shushing you softly. He ran his fingers through your hair and nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I really am. Wish I could wave a magic wand and fix everything for you. C'mon, let's sit down for a bit, huh? You can tell me everything," he said kindly, gesturing for the two of you to step inside the motel room. Nodding agreeably, you sniffed, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand- shuffling back into your room and sitting down abruptly on the edge of the bed. Caiden joined you, taking your hand in his, those beautiful brown eyes of his looking at you with a quiet understanding. Summoning your strength, you broke into an account of what had happened between you and the Winchester brothers, clinging onto Caiden's hand tighter. He would soothe you every time you began to choke up and reach out to lightly wipe away the tears that seeped from the corners of your eyes. Once you finished, you hung your head, shaking it slowly from side to side.

"I can't believe they treated you like that," Caiden sounded deeply disgusted.

"Maybe I brought it on myself?" You questioned yourself in a moment of despair.

"No, you didn't! It's their problem, not _**yours**_. It's their heads that are full of shit, you've done nothing to be ashamed of!"

"I guess. I've lost them, Caiden, I've lost my friends. I felt closer to those two than I did to my own _**real**_ family. Nobody ever truly gave a damn about me until I met them. Now...that's all gone, because of...because of reasons they won't even tell me!"

"It could be something they feel guilty about telling you?"

"Given how reluctant they were to tell me, it must be something pretty difficult. Thing is, I'm not sticking around until I get pushed aside completely. I'm leaving as soon as we're finished with our business here. I'll head back home, or maybe travel around a bit. They won't care after a while, they'll forget about me in time. They're not gonna come looking for me. We just...go our separate ways," you said, trying not to break down weeping again.

 

"It hurts like hell to think about that now, I know...but maybe going on by yourself and making a fresh start in life will be just what you need. I'm sure you'll find somewhere nice, make a group of awesome friends, do something you truly love...you could really prosper, [Y/N]. You don't need those two guys weighing you down like this. Besides, y'know...if you ever want a, um...special friend...I'm just a text or phone call away," Caiden hinted, glancing to the side with a puckish smile on his face.

"Very subtle," you giggled, sniffling.

"I do try," Caiden smirked, shrugging casually. "Look, if it means anything, I doubt they'd just let you drop off the map like that. I'm sure they'd try and find you, to at least make some attempt at repairing the friendship."

"They wouldn't. I'm sure they wouldn't," you insisted, once again hanging and shaking your head.

"You sure about that?" He asked.

"I'd bet on it," you snorted miserably.

"What if they realised you were in danger?" Caiden's voice changed. He sounded less compassionate and concerned, and more...forboding. Sensing this unsettling change, you slowly raised your head to look at him.

His eyes were stripped of all their previous warmth and affection.

They were cold, dark pits.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, quietly and meekly.

"I think you know," he replied in a frighteningly level voice. "The Winchesters would go to the ends of Earth for you, [Y/N]."

"How the hell do you- _**oh fuck**_..." Breath caught in your throat, you started to crawl back on the bed, trying to put distance between yourself and Caiden. His brown eyes had change to a distinctly golden yellow colour, the pupils mere pin-pricks amidst the startlingly bright shade of his irises. In a swift motion, Caiden grabbed hold of your ankles and dragged you along the bed towards him. On instinct, you unleashed a piercing, long-lasting scream. At least _**someone**_ would have to be alerted to your situation- though you hoped desperately Sam and Dean would come to your aid.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'll leave a couple of clues. If they're smart enough to figure them out, they should be able to find you. For now, though, it's best if you're not awake," he told you in a calm voice, reaching down to hold your head in his hands.

In a matter of seconds, you were unconscious.

* * *

**In the present...**

Giselle was staring straight at you, her yellow eyes glinting ominously.

"You're gonna kill me," you breathed out, not even bothering to question the vampire.

"First, of course, I'm using you as _**bait**_. Don't leave that part out, it's equally significant," she reminded you with blithe pitilessness.

"Bait for Sam and Dean-"

"Ma chere, there's no need to reiterate," Giselle scolded you impatiently, slowly pacing back and forth, along the length of the stage foot. She scraped a long, shaped fingernail across the stage's damp wooden planks as she walked. "Yes, I'm using you as bait to lure the Winchesters. Then I plan on consuming them both, after which, I'll devour you. You look soft and sweet- the perfect desert, I think. Although, if your friends don't turn up...I suppose I'll just have to make do with **you**."

"What about Caiden? Not gonna throw him any scraps for bringing me?" You asked sourly, trying to ignore your impending death in the event of Sam and Dean's failure to find you, or failure to destroy Giselle.

"Caiden? [Y/N], Caiden isn't an issue," Giselle laughed.

"Why?"

"Ma chere, Caiden's _**dead**_. He's been that way for some time, actually. And, for that matter, so has Jake O'Riley," Giselle held up her pointer finger, ceasing her steady pacing.

"Wh-what?" You frowned, completely bewildered.

"Charming Jake and darling Caiden weren't locals. Nobody took any particular notice of what happened to them. Yes, they had friends and family, but humans...are _**notoriously**_   easy to fool. I suppose it helps enormously when your minds are as open books to me, your thoughts, feelings and fantasies the disurbed plot of your own personal little dramas," Giselle added scathingly.

"Are you saying you killed them?"

"Excellent deduction, [Y/N]," she praised you without conviction, pinning you with her cold, watchful gaze.

"And you took on their forms?" Your body felt cold, prickled by sweat.

"Yes. When I consume a being in it's absolute entirety...I can imitate their physical appearance. I can wreak just as much havoc, given the impact I had on your relationship with the Winchesters. It was easy enough to see there were tensions between yourself and those two. You, with your worries, your fears, your insecurites...so concerned you were 'losing your best friends'- _**so sad**_ ," she pouted patronisingly at you, "And the brothers- _**my, my, my**_. All of that lust, jealousy and _**testosterone**_...their minds were gutters! The fire was already lit, ma chere, I merely fanned the flames."

"You flirted with me as Jake O'Riley and Caiden to 'fan the flames' and break me away from Sam and Dean. Why?" You felt yourself growing angry with this meddling bitch of a vampire.

"Because I like to play with my food," Giselle replied simply, yet her words and level voice curdled your blood.

 

The Nagaraja clambered lithely up onto the stage and strolled over to you, settling herself down in front of where you were sprawled across.

"I'd been hearing things about the Winchesters and their 'lady friend' investigating the 'string of killings' in the area. Given my particularly negative opinion of them, and my... ** _playful curiosity_ ** , I thought I'd put aside some time to have a little fun. As Jake O'Riley, I had the perfect opportunity to assess the situation, and discover your hidden weaknesses. As Caiden, I was able to fracture the relationship, and draw you away from them so you were alone and vulnerable. Of course, as myself, I'm able to wipe all three of you off the face of the Earth," she exlpained.

"In the mood to divulge your _**master plan**_   like every good 'villain', huh?" You inquired sarcastically. Giselle laughed at your impetuous question.

"Ma chere, I'm simply making conversation! Besides, even if I was 'divulging my master plan', what are you going to do about it? In the miniscule possibility you escape, you're not exactly going to be able to inform your human authorities, are you? Not unless you want a one-way ticket to straitjackets and thorazine," she chuckled.

"Fair point," you said through gritted teeth. "Earlier on...what you said about Sam and Dean...something about lust and jealousy..."

"Curiosity gotten the better of you, hm?" Giselle smiled wryly. "Oh yes indeed, those boys have been hankering after you for some time-"

"You're messing with my head, you bitch," you spat vehemently. Giselle scoffed amusedly.

"No, I'm telling you what you should hear, seeing as they're too cowardly to tell you themselves. You've been convinced they're pushing you away because they no longer want your company, and feel you're nothing more than an _**interloper**_. You've been so _**afraid**_ you were slowly losing the two people who finally loved you for who you were," she told you, fixing you with an intense gaze. A lump formed in your throat at her words. "But you've misinterpreted their actions horribly. They themselves haven't sought to correct you, either. In your naivety, you've mistaken their sexual attraction and arousal for disdain and discomfort. You've mistaken their fierce jealousy and possessive behaviour for protectiveness. You've also mistaken their fear of telling you that they're deeply _**in love with you**_ for disrespect and coldness."

 

You stared at Giselle, agog.

"So much for _**brotherly love**_ , hm?" The vampire chuckled ponderously.

"You're lying. You're feeding me all this crap to manipulate me!" You accused her, but she merely sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Why would I want to manipulate you _**now**_ ? I have you exactly where I want you. All it took was a handsome face and the promise of some...satisfaction..." Giselle purred, trailing her nimble fingers along your thigh. You jerked away from her, repulsed. "Darling, why so reluctant? You were very willing earlier in the bowling alley." She parted her carmine-coloured, full lips into a sultry smile.

"You...I thought- you were....I was talking to _**Caiden**_ , that's why!"

"Of course. I understand. There's something incredibly intoxicating about a man's touch. The feel of their hands on you, the look of ardour in their eyes...it does make for a more carefree attitude, does it not? Though tell me, [Y/N], had it been either one of the Winchester boys fondling you and whispering into your ear- would you have responded with just as much _**warmth**_ , if not more?"

You narrowed your eyes at her, and hissed, " _ **They're my best friends**_!"

"That makes a difference, _**how**_ ?"

"I don't think of them like that!"

"Given what I've seen and heard in your mind, I find that difficult to believe," Giselle raised her eyebrows at you. "Ah...we have company! Now we can finally get all of these feelings out in the open! Come out, boys, I know you're there- I can **hear** your heartbeats!"

 

Searching desperately around the theatre hall for the approaching figures of Sam and Dean, your anger dissipated.

"You took our best friend, you undead bitch, this ain't gonna be an 'easy kill' for you!" Dean snarled. You saw he and Sam treading forward slowly.

"Not 'easy', perhaps. 'Entertaining', is more like it," Giselle rallied calmly.

"Let [Y/N] go. Your fight's with **us** ," Sam said sternly.

"Pathetic negotiation, Samuel. I know she's a hunter. I know you and your brother spent time and effort training her up. She has just as much of my kinsfolk's blood on her hands as you both do," Giselle spat out acidly.

"Y'know, you're awful loyal to your 'kinsfolk'. Don't most of them think you _**flesh-eaters**_ are the scum of the vampire world? You're just vile **_abominations_**   to 'em- they talk shit about you, y'know-" Dean goaded the Nagaraja. She sprang to her feet, fast and agile, her face contorted in fury.

"Don't you dare speak of my kin! You know nothing of them!" She growled. "You have the audacity to mock me when I have your best friend  **right here**? I could snap her neck in a matter of seconds, you simple-minded bag of meat!"

"Whether you do or don't, we're still gonna gank you. Though, if you _**did**_ kill [Y/N], me and Sammy would make sure you went out the **slow** , fuckin' painful way. Sure, as hunters, we can be quick- but trust me on this, we know how to make it _**last**_ if we really want to," Dean warned her darkly.

"Such sincere ferocity, Dean, all for _**her**_ ?" Giselle jabbed her finger in your direction.

"Damn straight," Dean confirmed.

"Is she really _**just**_ a friend to you both? The 'sister you never had'?"

"She is," Sam said firmly, looking at you tenderly.

"Is that so? Does having a 'brotherly affection' for [Y/N] encompass wanting to fuck her, Samuel?" Giselle inquired. You saw something falter in Sam's expression of calm determination. Dean's head jerked back slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked curtly.

"Don't play coy, you know perfectly well what that means. It's a terrible shame that [Y/N] has to find out from a **_vampire_** that the two men she's considered her closest friends- going so far as to think of you both as family- **are in love with her**. All because you both couldn't muster up enough courage to tell her. You both can tackle evil spirits, hellish creatures and vampires- yet neither of you can tell your friend how badly you _**want her**_ ," Giselle shook her head in feigned disappointment. Both Sam and Dean became pale, unsettled by the vampire's words.

 

"Don't listen to her! She's trying to fuck with your heads!" You cried out. With inhuman speed, Giselle was behind you, holding either side of your head; her long fingers pressing against your skull, her nails digging into your flesh.

"Look at them, [Y/N]! Look at the shame written across their faces! Don't you see it? That's as much an admission as you could ever hope to get! _**Look at them**_! I can hear the guilt in ther minds, the guilt of being **caught out**!" She screamed, forcing you to look straight at the brothers. She began cackling maniacally. "Just look at them! Like scared little school-boys being chided by the teacher! They love you, [Y/N], and they _**desire you**_! Every time you wear a tight skirt or walk around in a towel in front of them, it takes all their restraint not to think for too long about that  _ **wet hole between your legs**_ but they still end up having to adjust their boxers!" She shrieked with malicious laughter.

"Shut your goddamn mouth!" Dean barked.

"The words of a guilty man, Dean!" Giselle remarked.

"Why are you doing this? What could you possibly hope to gain from messing with us?" Sam demanded.

"For fun. It's simple. Though, I confess, I like my food to get 'worked up' as I find it helps develop the flavour-" Giselle tittered.

"Fuck you!" You screeched up at her. Giselle moved her right hand from the side of your face and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging at it painfully, your scalp stinging.

"Hush now, ma chere, you're testing my patience," she warned you in a dangerously silky voice, dragging your head back so you were forced to look at her. "You're fully aware of what I'm capable of. I advise you to heed my warning." Giselle hissed, once again forcing you to look in Sam and Dean's direction. "Come now, Samuel and Dean. Be honest with [Y/N]. Tell her how long you've both been yearning for her and watching her longingly. Tell her just how much she truly means to you both-"

"You're a vile cunt," you muttered bitterly.

"SHUT UP!" Giselle bellowed down at you, her voice deeper, less human. "Go on, boys, open up! Or maybe, tell her how you both felt indescribable jealousy every time a man simply let his eyes linger on her. Did you wonder, [Y/N], why you were attracting so much attention? I was careful to place an aura on you when we first met, something akin to the aura myself and my kinsfolk possess- making you both intensely fascinating and incredibly  _ **appealing**_ to your fellow mortals. One might say I turned you into a 'walking honeypot', and oh, how the flies came swarming!" She laughed malignly. "That certainly hurried things along, and sparked your conflict sooner than I anticipated."

 

"You started the trouble between us?" Dean asked quietly, rage simmering beneath a rather shell-shocked exterior.

"No, you idiot, I helped get things moving! You were all a potent chemical mix _**waiting to react**_! Just think of me as...a catalyst," Giselle shrugged nonchalantly, "But now I'm bored of humiliating you two. Let's turn the tables, hm? Sweet one, tell them, go on- tell them about those fleeting thoughts you have about them." She crooned into your ear, her voice both seductive and chilling.

"You don't have to do anything she says, [Y/N]," Sam called out, as he and his brother inched forward through the theatre hall.

"Actually, she _**should**_ do everything I tell her to, considering the position she's in," Giselle corrected him, as though it were blatantly obvious. "Tell them, darling, tell them about those thoughts you had in the shower-" She giggled wickedly, grazing a fingertip over your cheek.

"You're talking shit," you said, clenching your jaw.

"As it happens, [Y/N] doesn't have thoughts of a sisterly nature, boys. Not that it even comes close to the sordid filth I've witnessed in your heads- _**appalling**_ !" Giselle burst into a mad peal of hysterical laughter, and started dragging her fingernail down your soft cheek. Giving a yelp of discomfort, Sam and Dean were quick to react, rushing forward. "Ahhh, the **real** fun begins-" The vampire said sinisterly to herself. Clamping her hands around your head, she then leaned forward and whispered once more to you, "I don't think you need to be around for this. You might intefere. Don't worry, ma chere, I'll wake you when it's time to feast."

Just as you'd felt before, your whole body became limp, your head foggy to the point of losing all sense of reality and awareness. Collapsing back down onto the stage, the last thing you saw were the expressions of terrifying anger on Sam and Dean's faces.

Then you blacked out...

 

 

 

 

* * *

  Hey, guys! I know it's not convention to put end-notes in the actual chapter text, but seeing as I don't know how on Earth to put a picture in the notes section (whether you can even do that on A03, I'm not sure?) I've had to improvise.

The visual inspiration for Giselle Beauvais is none other than Marie Laveau from American Horror Story....because even though she's kind of a 'baddie', she's fudging awesome and probably my favourite character in season three! ^.^

                  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a horrible disappointment, I hope? :D hehe!
> 
> By the way (I get a LOOOOT of visual inspiration), the guy I had in mind when writing Caiden was literally a guy I saw in the gym. I thought he was breath-taking, to the point he was proving to be a major distraction to my treadmilling XD I couldn't help but throw him into this fic as the gorgeous, kind-hearted charmer...who admittedly turns out to be a murderous vampire in disguise, but oh well! :3


	5. Love In Those Green Eyes Of His- Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy-hey, folks! Sorry for keeping you waiting for this update- I had a bit of writer's block (*cough, severe writer's block, cough*). Finally got something done, but consider it a 'part one' to the...um...escalation of Reader and Dean's relationship. 
> 
> I promise there's more to come (pun not intended), I was just getting annoyed with myself for still having this chapter 'in the works', and felt it would have hindered the quality if I'd kept writing it. I have a tendency to rush towards the end of a hefty chapter, and I don't want to do that- I really want there to be passion and intensity, not error-laden sentences that do nothing but skim over the emotion.
> 
> Hehe, my arty-farty ramblings aside, I hope you lovely stars enjoy this chapter! <3

Returning to consciousness, you were aware you were lying on something soft, and of artificial lighting breaking through the peachy membrane of your closed eyelids. Fluttering your eyes open, adjusting to the light after that sudden, lonely darkness forced upon you, you turned your head to the side groggily. You realised you'd been laid down on a bed, above the quilt, head cushioned by a thick pillow. Much to your surprise, you also saw Dean seated in a chair by the bedside, hunched forward. 

"Hey, princess," he greeted you warmly, with a hint of a crooked smile.

"Dean?" You croaked, throat dry and scratchy.

"That's right. No tricks, no _**vamp**_. It's all me, sweetheart," he reached out and squeezed your hand; which had been resting limply at your side. "C'mon, have somethin' to drink, you'll need it." Dean picked up a glass of water, which had been sitting on the bedside table, waiting for you to waken from the empty void of unconsciousness.

"W-where...Giselle? Is- is she-?" You stumbled over your words, peering around the motel room you'd been sharing with Sam and Dean before making your heartbroken departure.

"Hey, shh, s'okay- she's dead. Me and Sammy made sure of that. C'mon, you gotta sit up, [Y/N], or this water's gonna go down the wrong way," Dean soothed you. Sluggishly, but surely, you inched up the bed and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard. "Here, lemme do it." The green-eyed hunter raised the glass of water to your lips, encouraging you to take a sip. You opened your mouth, and as Dean carefully tipped the glass forward, you gratefully accepted the steadily poured sips of water.

 

"That's it. That's good, sweetheart," Dean said, obviously pleased you were rehydrating. With honed observational skills, when he noticed you pulling back from the glass, he took it away and returned it to its place on the bedside table. "You okay, [Y/N]?"

"Better, but...well, I'm getting there," you told him. "Are-are you alright?"

"Nothing that won't heal, but other than that, I'm good," he shrugged his shoulders in a blase fashion.

"Is Sam okay? Where is he?" You gripped Dean's hand tighter.

"Don't worry about Sammy, he's fine. He decided to hit the pharmacy and pick up some pain meds for you. Honestly, you and me both know he'll come back with a shit load of stuff. Disinfectant, bandages, anti-septic cream, pfft, you name it!" Dean chuckled, grazing his thumb over the back of your hand, his green eyes looking at you with the tenderness you'd long believed you'd never see.

"Christ, am I cut up that bad?"

"Nah, scratches and bruises. Sammy got really worried about you, so he's kinda...I dunno...in shock, I guess, and buying medical supplies as a way of coping?" Dean frowned bemusedly. You couldn't help but snicker at the thought, but it endeared Sam to you all the same. "I have a feelin' he'll come back with vitamin tablets to help with the 'healing process'."

"Aww, man. You gotta love him," you sighed, leaning your head back against the board.

 

"Yeah. Thing is though, you'll heal up on the outside, no problem. On the inside..." Dean began, with great difficulty.

"Dean, I'm okay, really. Sure, there are things I'll need to get over, but it's no big deal. I just...won't trust attractive guys flirting with me in future, just in case they happen to be Nagaraja vampires in disguise," you joked, with a dry laugh, though you couldn't help but cast your eyes down; avoiding Dean's gaze.

"She did **that**? Fuck....[Y/N], I'm- I don't even know what to say," he said.

"Not much to say, really? She was a manipulative, undead bitch looking to 'have fun' with her next three-course meal. I mean, Jeez Louise, what she did takes serious effort- so I'm gonna call her out on having been a prime example of 'psychotic'," you replied.

"Well, her 'having fun' took advantage of you, gave you a false sense of safety and then kidnapped you with a view to baiting you and then eatin' you. I could understand if you were feelin' kinda screwy," Dean sounded disgusted by the the emotional injuries inflicted on you by the day's events. 

"When you put it like that, today  **has** been kind of shitty," you said, sadly, absent-mindedly tracing over the back of Dean's hand with your fingertips. It was a comforting, affectionate gesture, which he certainly didn't rebuff.

"To make things worse, me and Sam...me and Sam fucked you over. We've been shit friends to you, [Y/N]. Well, um, **_I've_**   definitely been a shit friend," Dean shook his head in shame, his tone laced with self-loathing.

"Dean-"

"No, it's true. Everything you said to me and Sammy before you left. We stood there, tryin' to argue and make excuses, but we had nothing. Because explaining the truth would just...open this door...to somethin' neither of us knew how to handle," he said, voice a little thicker, "We _**were**_ cowards, [Y/N]. And I'm so, so sorry for that. For makin' you ever feel unwanted. Unloved. Like...an intruder-

"Dean..." You whispered.

"-cos you mean everythin' to us, princess. Fuck, I'm not good with these moments," Dean let out an explosive sigh, rubbing a hand over his face in agitation. "Sammy...Sammy, he can do this shit. Me, I get all antsy about it." He jigged his leg up and down anxiously. "I guess... what I'm tryin' to tell you is, in the most fucking awkward way, the reason...the reason we- we changed because..."

You looked intently at him, your face having softened at his evident vulnerability. Cradling his hand between your own, you remained tactfully quiet, letting him summon up the courage needed to say whatever it is he wanted to tell you.

"I love you, [Y/N]," he finally said, after a long silence.

 

You couldn't help but gape at him slightly.

"I-I love you, [Y/N]. Sam loves you. We both do. As more than a best friend," Dean admitted quietly.

"I...you both..." You stammered.

"Crazy, huh?" He didn't meet your eye, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, it's...so what Giselle said- what she said, that was true?"

"Yeah," Dean struggled to say, as if the admission was physically painful.

"Dean," you breathed out.

"Yeah. We've always loved you, [Y/N], you were...well, kinda like a sister to us. You're great to be around, you're smart, witty...you can be a lovable pain in the ass when you want to be-" Dean chortled to himself, "-then it hit me. Hit **both** me and Sammy a while back. I started to realise that I was feeling somethin' _**more**_ for you, y'know. I started clammin' up around you, because I felt guilty. And because I was afraid. _**Afraid**_ !" He snorted disparagingly. "Fuckin' ironic, huh? That bitch was right, I'd take on a a vampire any day, but I was too scared to  _ **tell you how I felt**_ !"

"It's not always easy, Dean," you consoled him.

 

"I shoulda tried. You wouldn't have been so confused and upset for so long. Instead...I just talked to Sammy, and he- he told me he felt the same way about you. We didn't fight over it, we just accepted we both had feelings for you, and- get this- we agreed not to say anything to you because we didn't wanna _**fuck things up with you**_. Like we didn't do that in the long run," Dean shook his head.

"You were both afraid, like you said-"

"It ain't an excuse, [Y/N. We were scared of you being uncomfortable or, hell, even angry with us. I honestly thought you saw us as nothing more than 'brothers' to you- so tellin' you we loved you? That would be fuckin' weird for you, right? Sometimes, Sammy would come close to cracking...we'd argue about whether we should say somethin' to you and I'd tell him each time ' _ **We gotta stay quiet, she doesn't need that kinda shit from us**_ '. As if I was **protecting _you_** ? I was protecting _**myself**_ , I was protecting Sammy- we were wusses, [Y/N]!"

"No, Dean, don't you dare say that," you told him firmly.

"We were, [Y/N]! We couldn't even pretend to act the way we used to 'cause we were so fuckin' terrified of _**breaking**_ , of saying somethin' to you! Then we turned into these screwed-up, apathetic, _**jealous**_ assholes...Christ, but seeing that motherfucker put his hands all over you-" Dean snarled, before cutting himself off, clenching his free hand into a fist, "-and those guys,  _ **staring**_ at you. I wanted to beat the living crap out of 'em."

You looked at those mesmirising eyes of his, sporadically shifting your gaze across his face. When the older Winchester brother became aware of your compassionate gaze, the anger that had flared within him dispersed almost immediately.

"I don't know...if you feel the same way about either of us. If you do, obviously that's....that's amazing. If you don't, that's cool, too...it's just-just the way it is, right? At least- at least you know now, huh? You know our reasons. Even if it did take a Nagaraja to make me spit it out after so long," Dean said, deflatedly. "So, yeah. I, um, I love you, [Y/N]."

 

Still shocked to be hearing those words coming from Dean, you were speechless. You shuffled around on the bed, averting your gaze from Dean's face and glancing at random objects in the motel, desperately trying to formulate coherent sentences. Nothing seemed 'good enough' or tender enough. You'd gone blank from astonishment and _**joy**_. Dean and Sam Winchester _**loved you**_! It was a slightly unusual situation; two brothers, who were your best friends, had fallen deeply in love with you.

 _ **Did you love them back the way they loved you**_ ? You weren't entirely sure, but you knew you doted on them with every fibre of your being. Without them in your life, it would be as though a large piece of you were missing. Since befriending them and overcoming the barrier of shyness that sprang up because of their physical attractiveness- since truly coming to know and love the men _**behind the handsome faces**_ \- you'd always assumed your love was 'sisterly' and platonic. Maybe there'd been _**something**_ hiding under the surface, something you'd repressed for so long that you weren't consciously aware of it?

Perhaps you'd buried those feelings for the brothers deep inside of you? Not just simply to make yourself less anxious around them, but to save yourself from the prospect of pain and rejection? It would explain those fleeting thoughts you had of them both, the lingering looks; those small gestures that took you by surprise.

So, perhaps, there was more to the love you bore for them?

"Dean, I- I'm gonna head back to my room. I mean, my stuff's in there, anyways and...I just need time to think over all of this," you excused yourself meekly, slowly swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and gradually sliding off.

"Oh, yeah, 'course... sure thing," he quickly said, helping you up onto your feet.

"Thank you, Dean. For everything. You and Sam...I don't where I'd be without you guys. I love the two of you. I love you, Dean," you told Dean earnestly, closing the space between you both and winding your arms around him, locking you both in an embrace.

 

"[Y/N]..." His voice barely audible as he hugged you in return. After a few minutes, you loosened your hold on him, and pulled back to look him in the eyes. Lifting one hand, you caressed his cheek, delicately brushing your fingers up the side of his face until you were raking them through his hair. The hunter leaned into the tender touch, emitting a barely audible sigh of gratitude, as though finally being given something he desperately sought.

You inched forward until your faces were but centimetres apart. Dean's eyes drifted across your face, those full lips of his parting ever so slightly. There was a strange tingling in your stomach, a heat pooling inside of you, as you became more aware of his body against yours and the desire in his tender, yet amorous gaze. His exhaling breaths were soft, warm puffs of air on your skin, pushed out from between his lips. The hunter slid his hands up, across your shoulders and up your neck; until they cradled the base of your skull, his fingers combing lovingly through your hair. He stretched his thumbs back, so they brushed along the points at which your jawline met with your ears.

"Dean," you uttered, his name coming out as little more than a breathy whisper, gazing at him with an ardour you'd never before looked at him with. You saw his eyes widen by the tiniest fraction, his pupils enlargen, and felt his body seemingly swell with eagerness and confidence. Dean's hands slowly quested down, over your shoulders, down your arms-

"[Y/N]..." He said in a husky, low voice that had you trembling. Cautiously, he moved his wandering hands and rested them on your waist. You didn't push him away, or utter a word of complaint, but merely stared at him as your body felt lighter than air. His lowered his gaze for a brief moment, before returning his focus on your eyes. The tension in the air was palpable.

"I love you, Dean. The way you and Sam love me. I love you both," you told him, placing your hands on his firm chest and feeling his heart pounding away. He stared at you for a moment, as though in disbelief.

"Don't ever leave us again, sweetheart. It tore me up watchin' you walk out of here," Dean entreated in a hoarse, constricted whisper, his beautiful eyes so compellingly full of emotion.

"I'm never leaving either of you. _**Never**_. You're both stuck with me," you smiled at him.

"Good," Dean stated determinedly, as though it were a ubiquitous truth. Tilting his head to one side, he leaned in and brought his face closer to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, ready for his soft, full lips to finally meet yours and seal the love between you both.

Then you both heard the key scrabbling in the motel door's lock.

 

Breaking apart like startled animals afraid of being caught, you stood facing one another listlessly as Sam entered the motel room.

"Ah, okay, got a few things for [Y/N]- painkillers, bandages, and they had a deal on multivitamins, so I figured I'd get 'em-" He stopped in his tracks when he took in the sight of you- conscious **_and_**   standing up. "[Y/N]!" He breathed out.

"Ha, you actually got me vitamins, Sammy. Thank you," you chuckled, hurrying across to him and throwing your arms around the taller Winchester. Sam's arms enclosed you in his protective warmth, the bag of purchased goods rustling and hitting the floor with a soft thud as he dropped it unceremoniously. He leaned down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You heard him breathing in deeply, one of his hands rushing up to cup the back of your head.

"Thank God..." He whispered. "You're okay. You're okay. You're completely okay." He repeated to himself, a comforting, quiet mantra of self-assurance.

"I am, Sammy. I'm fine. You and Dean found me, you saved me. I'm with you both again," you soothed him, you combed your fingers through his thick, chestnut hair. In the moment of tenderness, you kissed the side of his head as it remained in place, pressed between your neck and shoulder. His hold on you tightened.

"We heard you screaming...when we got to your room, you were gone-" Sam recounted.

"Sam..."

"We thought we'd lost you forever, [Y/N], but when we were able to track you down, when we found you- it was fine. It was okay. We didn't care what we had to fight, at least-at least we knew you were alive!" He brought his face out from the crook of your neck and looked at you intently, restlessly running his hands through your hair; confirming in his own mind that you were _**definitely**_   standing in front of him, that you weren't a figment of his imagination born from hysteria. "And you're here now. You're back- you're back with us. You're-you're gonna stay, aren't you?" He sounded like a young boy, so vulnerable, seeking your assurance.

"Yes, Sammy. I'm staying," you cradled his face in your hands, the stubble on his jaw and cheeks prickly against your palms. Tears swam in the younger hunter's eyes, but he fought them back, pressing his lips together and glancing up the ceiling, blinking away the wetness in his eyes.

"Good," Sam said, exactly as his older brother had done a few minutes earlier, finally looking at you. His expression was pure love, those hazel-tinted eyes never tearing from their ardent gaze.

 

"Sammy," you spoke up softly after a few minutes, "I'm gonna head back to my room. I left all my stuff in there." You explained.

"Oh, yeah, 'course," Sam faltered.

"I just...need some time alone to think about some stuff. Get myself together, y'know," you placed a hand on his chest, just over where his heart was. It was beating rapidly. Sam lay his own hand on top of yours.

"I understand. Y'know if you want...if you felt like...if- just...we'd love to have you back. With us. The door's always open for you, [Y/N]," he stammered, too nervous to ask you to return in case you were still upset.

"I know, Sammy. Thank you. I'll come back when I'm feeling better, okay?" You smiled up at him.

"Sure thing," Sam nodded, while you both slowly broke apart.

"I've got your room key, sweetheart. You'd...it was still on the table when we came over after hearing the scream and realised-realised you'd been..." Dean struggled to speak of your kidnapping, swallowing thickly.

"Thanks, Dean," you spared him the trouble, "Would you mind coming with me? I know it's only a short walk, but-"

"Absolutely," Dean agreed firmly.

"Thanks. See you later, Sam," you gave the younger Winchester brother a brief, but no less warm, hug, before walking out of their motel room; Dean following in suit.

 

Both you and Dean walked in comfortable silence to your motel room. He fished the key from his jeans' pocket and unlocked the door for you, resting his hand on the small of your back and very gently encouraging you to step in first. Pushing the door and taking in the sight of the room; barely a sign of disturbance aside from the rumpled bedclothes. You heaved a sigh as Dean shut the door behind you both.

"Like it never happened," you remarked.

"It did though, and it was our fault. If we'd just _**told**_ you what was goin' on...that bitch never woulda got her hands on you-"

"Dean, if it hadn't worked out the way it did, she'd still be alive and killing innocent people for food or sport. Maybe me being taken saved some lives? That's worth something," you argued calmly.

"It wouldn't have been worth anythin' if you'd died, [Y/N]," Dean said with quiet vehemence.

"I'm here, Dean," you replied in a hushed voice, turning to look him in the eye. "I'm alive, standing right in front of you because you and Sam found me. Please,  _ **please**_ , Dean, don't dwell on 'what could have been' or 'what might have been'. All that matters is how things are now and...how things are with you, me and Sam...with _**us**_."

"How are things with us?" Dean asked quietly, with a significant look.

"I was hoping we could find out," you gave him a look that invited him to make a bold move. You saw it flash across Dean's face- ever the keen-eyed hunter, noting the subtle phsyical cue- recognising that he could finally do what he'd intended to in the first place. It seemed as though a fire had been ignited within him, his eyes full of a hunger that surpassed anything you'd seen from a man before.

He closed the space between you both, cupped your face and crushed his lips against yours.

 

You felt lighter than air, like you could drift away into the stratosphere without a care in the world. You wouldn't though, you had Dean holding you against him, locking your bodies together in a passionate embrace. Pulling back to take breath, you raked your fingers through his spiky hair.

"Dean...Dean, I love you," you gasped, tilting your head forward so your forehead tapped gently against his. "I love you so much."

"I love you, [Y/N]," Dean said, his hands quested down your arms to hold your own hands. He raised them to his mouth, pressing his lips against your knuckles before brushing his cheek against them. Unfurling your hands, you grazed your fingertips over his cheek. The simple touch seemed to unmask a well-hidden vulnerability in the hunter.

"Dean," your voice was a tender croon.

"It woulda broken my fuckin' heart if I never got to hold you again, [Y/N]..." Dean sounded on the brink of crying.

"Shh, c'mere," you soothed him, slowly winding your arms around him; offering him solace in your embrace. He clung to you like a lifeline. "You're holding me now, Dean."

His hands moved down to your waist, gripping tightly. With his face already nuzzling into the crook of your neck, he placed a chaste kiss upon your throat.

"Stay with me Dean. _**Love me**_ ," you whispered, your comforting touch becoming sensual as your hands roamed down his back. Dean's breath hitched at your words and actions, as his grip loosened, fingers wandering towards the sides of your breasts. His lips sucked and nibbled lightly at the fragile skin of your neck, eliciting from you an inward hiss of satisfaction. " _ **Dean**_." You moaned his name. The mere soft, wanton utterance of his name was enough to re-kindle the fire inside of him, and awaken that burning desire.

 

A flurry of heated kisses were exchanged between you and Dean, backing steadily towards the bed. Even in his eagerness, he never became aggressive, never grabbed at you painfully. You'd always imagined him to be into the 'rough manhandling' kind of love, but as it happened, Dean was the most tender lover a woman could hope for. Every light brush of his plush lips against your skin, every graze of his hands over your body; they were loving and sensitive. He seemed remarkably attuned to you, instinctively knowing how to kiss and touch you in ways that made you shiver and tremble in erotic anticipation.

As soon as you felt the bed bump against the backs of your knees, you settled down and shuffled towards the pillows, gently tugging on Dean's t-shirt to guide him into position. At one point, he lost his footing and collapsed on top of you. The two of you laughed at the mistake, completely at ease in each other's presence. Feeling his weight on your body, however, proved to be too potent an aphrodisiac to divert your attention for long. You brought his head down to lock your mouths together, swallowing a low groan from the hunter, who ground his hard, denim covered crotch against your skirt-and-panty clad one.

"Someone's eager," you chuckled seductively.

"I've been pretty eager these past coupla months, sweetheart, you've been drivin' me crazy," Dean growled, that rich, beautiful sound rushing straight to your core. You ceased embracing him for a few moments to remove your kimono jacket and cast it aside. Dean took the opportunity to yank his t-shirt and over his head, hurling it over his shoulder carelessly.

"Mmm," you purred appreciatively, tracing your fingertips across his bare chest, "How have I been driving you crazy, Dean?" You asked, as he pushed the hem of your top up to reveal the bare, smooth skin of your stomach.

"Christ, more ways than I count," he sighed, stroking in light circles the skin below your navel. You shivered at the feather light touch, earning a devestating smile from Dean. He eased your top further up to reveal your bra, the sight of which made him lick his lower lip and moan quietly.

"Indulge me. Tell me about a few, the most recent ones," you urged, removing your top.

"You wanna know how much of a little tease you've been? How you've been fuckin' torturing me and my brother?" Dean sounded more aroused than frustrated.

"Uh huh," you nodded, stroking his toned back. Dean lowered his luscious lips to press against yours, running a hand along your naked waist, before sliding down to squeeze at your thigh. Pulling back from the kiss, he slowly traced along your lips with the the tip of his tongue. He started venturing south, dragging his tongue up the centre of your throat, stopping at your chin. "T-tell me...Dean...uh, Dean..." You moaned again, stretching out your neck to expose more of yourself to him.

 

"Let's start with last night, huh?" Dean spoke in a husky rasp, peppering kisses down between your breasts- still covered by the black lace of your bra. "Getting changed into your 'PJs' in front of me and Sammy? You fuckin' took your dress off so you were standin' _**right there**_ in your goddamn panties and bra. Then all you wear is a t-shirt, so when you went on all fours and stretched across the bed...I could see that beautiful ass, your panties just riding up-"

"Hmm? Tell me more," you said, stirring pleasurably as Dean's mouth resumed their tiny kisses down your stomach.

"Then comin' out in that towel and bending over to look for your brush? Fuck, you don't know what that did to me, baby," Dean grunted, squeezing your thigh a little harder. "Poor Sammy had to run off to the bathroom. I had to stay sat there, watchin' you, while fighting off a hard-on."

"Mmm, Dean," you groaned, spreading your legs out and lazily bucking your hips up toward his crotch.

"Oh? Like hearin' about how hard you make me? Lemme tell you more then. That little stunt you pulled, grabbin' your cereal while you were in your undies- I couldn't turn around for five minutes 'cause my sweatpants were tenting out my dick was so hard," Dean flirtatiously admonished you, sliding his fingers into the waistband of your skirt and tugging it down gradually. You raised your hips up, then lifted your legs a couple of inches off the bed so he could remove it with ease. He was hasty to return to his original position, his groin nestled comfortably between your legs.

"Fuck, the things I've wanted to do to you...and you go doing stuff like _**that**_? All the skin on show, standin' right next to me...but I couldn't touch you. Couldn't grab you and kiss you and lick every inch of you. Couldn't lift you up on the counter and fuck you-"

"What else do you wanna do to me?"

"Damn," Dean smiled crookedly, shifting around and, at a tauntingly unhurried pace, began tracing his fingers along your cotton-swathed womanhood, teasing your folds gently, "Where do I start?"

.....


End file.
